


Union

by OperaGoose



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Canonical Character Death, Imperial Prompto Argentum, M/M, Prince Prompto Argentum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-23 22:52:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16627973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OperaGoose/pseuds/OperaGoose
Summary: As punishment for his failure to crush the Fennestala Rebellion, Imperial Prince Prompto Aldercapt is sent to Insomnia to wed their crown prince as basis for a ceasefire to engineer a peace treaty. He is a pawn in this game as much as anyone else is.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> This work is inspired heavily by pigeon princess’s amazing prince Prompto AU art, and also the first couple chapters are influenced by Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette.  
> Written as part of Shadowstepper, a NaNoWriMo project, and shifted to its own fic after 50,000 word completion.

Prompto threw the doors open and rushed in. “Uncle, tell me it’s not true!” 

Chancellor Ardyn Izunia glanced at the group of generals around him and dismissed them with a simple gesture. Once the door was safely closed behind them, he turned his attention to the prince. Prince Prompto Aldercaapt, Duke of Gralea - not the flesh and blood of his Imperial Majesty, but a clone of Besithia’s ingenuity given to the emperor to raise his heir. At least, that had been the plan. 

“My dear boy,” Ardyn said, gently laying his head atop the head of long, smooth blond hair. “Did you think there would be no consequences for your failure at Fennestala?” 

He swallowed the twist of nausea in his stomach. Fennestala. The people of Tennebrae had risen up in rebellion, and it had been his first task to lead the armies of Imperial Troopers to crush it. Instead, the rebellion had succeeded and the former kingdom was now under the leadership of Lord Ravus. 

It had weakened their glorious empire’s hold over their domains. Galahd was preparing their own rebellion, aided by its former kingdom Lucis - and Accordo was beginning to venture to ‘ _renegotiate terms_ ’. All because he had stopped his general’s plan to burn down the manor with all the people trapped inside. 

“But… you can’t be serious! They’re saying that I-” 

“Are to be wed to the Lucian prince in order to secure a ceasefire to discuss a treaty.” His uncle’s voice was calm. Placid, almost. “That was your father’s decision.” 

“I’m being sold like chattel to our barbaric enemies!” he shouted, waving his arms at his sides to try and convey some of the useless anger and energy burning in his belly. 

“Prompto, would you kindly calm down?” His uncle said gently. It was soothing, the sound of it reminding he was being ridiculous and gently guiding him back to a calm and reasonable disposition. Once the prince had relaxed, he continued. “The Lucii aren’t as advanced as those fortunate enough to belong to our glorious empire. The territories beyond the crown city are half a century behind our developments. But within Insomnia you will not find life...so difficult.” 

“But Uncle… I _can’t_ ,” he stressed, anxiety twisting against the soothing calm of his uncle. “He can’t expect me to _marry him_.” 

“Hush, dear boy,” Chancellor Izunia soothed, taming the young prince into his arms. “It is the burden of royalty to bear certain burdens for their people. Your hand in marriage was never to be yours. The late queen’s hand was given as part of the Tennebraen union. You are merely doing what royalty have done for thousands of years. Making a match to secure the well-being of their people. Only fairytale princes marry for true love.” 

He hung his head, resigning himself to it. “But uncle… he’s a man. It would make me a sodomite.” 

A hand stroked through his hair. “The Six will grant you forgiveness.” 

*** 

Prompto was nervous. His stomach was squirming restlessly like a thousand wasps were fighting in his body. His leg bounced powerlessly, and he felt like the safety harness was creeping up towards his neck to choke him. Commodore Highwind glared at him as he shifted. “Would you calm down, kid?” 

He took a deep breath and felt everything settle down. She glared at him again and turned away from him. That’s why he liked her. She didn’t treat him like a delicate prince. 

But it was only moments before he was a mess of squirrelly nerves again. The commodore sighed in irritation and swore in relief when the pilot announced that they were beginning their descent. She relaxed. He did not. 

Every muscle in his body clenched up, and he could hardly open his chest enough to breathe. He was dimly aware of a hand settling on his shoulder, but he heard the voice at his ear. 

“Would you relax, my boy? Breathe...” 

His uncle always knew what to say to calm him down. He turned to give him a weak smile. “What would I do without you, Uncle?” 

“You’ll have to figure that out soon, kid,” Commodore Highwind announced. The airship had grounded. “Time to face the firing squad.” 

The hatch opened, light spilling into the dim interior. Outside, there was a tent set up with two openings - one facing them, and the other the gate of Insomnia. He felt sick. 

Chancellor Izunia’s hand on his back guided him into the opening of the tent. The dim interior was comforting. In the centre stood a prim gentleman, hands clasped behind his back. The set of glasses perched on his nose were surprisingly athletic - sporty and functional instead of pretty. 

“Your highness,” he greeted. His voice was cool, calm and accented. He bowed shallowly, almost insultingly so. “My name is Ignis Scientia. His highness’s advisor and privy gentleman.” 

“This is Commodore Highwind and Chancellor Izunia,” he offered. 

“Quite. Shall we begin?” 

“Begin?” 

A single elegant eyebrow raised and a look was given to his Uncle Ardyn. The Chancellor explained: “Prompto, in Lucii tradition you must cast off everything from your home and enter your new life with only Lucian possessions.” 

“Oh.” That explained why the Magitek Servants hadn’t packed his clothes. When he didn’t move, his uncle stepped forward and began to undo the clasps of his armour. 

He was undressed calmly and efficiently and when he stood in his boxers and tank, he turned to Scientia expectantly. 

The advisor was calm, but there was something awkward about the tightness of his mouth. “Everything of your homeland must be cast off.” 

Oh. Embarrassed and ashamed, he began to take off his underwear. He didn’t want to be naked in front of his uncle, or the commodore, or this complete stranger. But what choice did he have? 

That was done, but the gentleman cleared his throat and gave a significant look towards his wrist. Prompto felt panic grip him in icy claws. “Would you like to remove your bracelet yourself, your highness?” 

He gave a terrified look at his uncle, fingers reaching up to unclasp the cuff. He turned his eyes away, lowering them to his bare toes. He felt _sick_. 

The gentleman approached with a neatly folded pile of clothing. Even the underwear was black. The high, stiff collar felt like it was strangling him \- at least it had long sleeves. He was almost relieved when a white and red coat was brought over to finish the outfit off. 

The clothes were all soft fabrics. Nothing like the blended metal fibres of his homeland, protective and functional. But with the colours of the glorious empire, and the metal decorations, he felt a little more protected. 

He turned to his uncle with an attempt at a smile. “Are we ready?” 

There was something almost pitying in his look. “You are, my dear boy.” 

Panic gripped him. He could hardly breathe. “But... you aren’t coming with me?” 

“No, my dear boy. You cannot take anything of your homeland with you. I shall visit soon, to begin negotiations for the peace treaty.” He embraced the young prince and murmured into his ear. “Would you remain calm for the rest of the day, my boy? It would not do to have them think you come to this union unwillingly.” 

He felt the usual calm from speaking with his uncle wash over him, and could make his goodbyes without tears. He headed out of the tent, pausing for the magic wall to be momentarily lifted to allow him entrance. 

A sleek car was waiting just inside the gates. Black, with silvery filigree in the back window. But it had wheels, and it stunk of petroleum. Exactly how far behind were these people? 

The journey through the city was long, and he started to get restless. His leg bounced in place against the footwell of the back seat. Scientia glanced at him in the rear view mirror. 

“Are you nervous?” He asked, his voice oddly concerned. 

He bared his teeth in a sort of grimace. “It is my wedding day. Wouldn’t you be?” 

“Quite.” The advisor watched him for a moment longer, then returned his attention to the road. “We shan’t be much longer.” 

There was a crowd of people at the Citadel, flanking the red carpet that led up a set of long marble stairs. One of the fancy guards - the Crownsguard - opened the car door for him. He took a deep breath, remembering his Uncle’s parting words, and felt calm wash over him. Then he stepped out. 

The crowd was silent, some of the looks almost hostile. But he kept a slight smile on his face as if he didn’t notice, and began to ascend the stairs. A little way up, he noticed a group of shabbily dressed children, looking scrubbed clean and uncomfortable in their clothes. 

Orphans, he thought with a swell of sympathy. He noticed a couple of girls at the front of the huddle holding hand-picked bunches of flowers. He paused by them, crouching slightly so he didn’t loom so much. “Are those for me?” 

The girls looked anxious, almost flinching when he offered a hand to take them. His heart crumpled in his chest, but he merely widened his smile and waited with his hand patiently outstretched. “Or maybe you want me to give them to your prince?” 

“They say the prince is getting married today. But where’s the princess?” One of the younger ones piped up, too young to know she shouldn’t ask maybe. 

The matron tried to shush her, but he merely knelt down on one knee to reach her level. “I’m the one who has come to marry your prince,” he explained gently. “I’m a prince too. Prince Prompto.” 

“Oh.” The girl wrinkled her face in confusion. “I guess you can have my flowers then...” She offered them out to him indifferently. 

He still took them with a gentle hand, carefully cradling them in his fingers. “Thank you. They’re very beautiful.” He rose them up to his face to inhale their scent. 

The other orphans gave over their flowers too, until he had his hands full and had thanked them all. He resumed his path up the stairs when an anxious thought crawled up his oesophagus. With the long white tails of his coat and the haphazard bouquet it hit him: he was getting married. He was the bride. 

The thought made him sick, but he made himself take deep breaths. Calm himself down. Uncle Ardyn had said he should be calm. So he would be calm. 

He caught sight of some photographers and smiled as he watched them, admiring their cameras and the different expensive models they had. He wondered how soon he could get his camera sent... or maybe he’d just have to get a new one. At least they didn’t seem too far behind in that technology here in Lucis. 

He at last reached the top, and the wide doors were opened. It was blessedly dark and cool inside the foyer, it helped him relax. There weren’t as many people either. Though there was lots of nobles and different guards standing along the walls. They were silent as he passed, moving like ghosts as they shallowly bowed to him as he passed. He was guided by their flanks to the elevator - Scientia had disappeared at some point. But there was a tall, stoic guard in different clothes waiting for him inside the elevator. He bowed. “Nyx Ulric, your highness. I’ve been assigned to guard you.” 

Guard, Prompto thought. For his protection? Or for everyone else’s? 

(...) 

When Ignis came back in the room, Noct was still in his pyjamas, sprawled comfortably on his couch with a controller in his hand. He glanced up from the screen as he felt his advisor’s disapproving gaze on him. 

“What?” 

“You’re still not dressed.” The advisor disappeared behind a partition to change into his formal Crownsguard uniform. 

He shrugged. “Figured you’d only get annoyed if it wrinkled,” he answered. “Hair and make-up’s been and gone. It’ll take me like two minutes to get ready.” 

Ignis just sighed, resigned. “You could make some effort to appear not completely indifferent to this situation, Highness.” 

He shrugged. “Me being angry about it isn’t going to do anything, Specs. I’m stuck marrying some Niff prince and it’s up to Gladio to make sure he doesn’t suffocate me with a pillow in my sleep.” 

“Noctis, _really_.” Iggy sighed again and came back out, fully dressed. “Get dressed. He will be in the throne room at any moment.” 

He rolled his eyes and got up to put his basic suit on, and then let Specs attach the stupid overly fancy cloak and armour. It _was_ his wedding, so the formal regalia was understanding. But that didn’t mean he had to _like_ it. 

He hadn’t believed it at first. That his father was selling him off in marriage to a Niff for a peace treaty! He’d tried to argue - the Niff Army had lost Tennebrae. They were vulnerable and they could drive them out of their territories. But his father had been calm. 

_There is no need to resort to violent measures when peaceful ones would serve the same purpose._ He had recited. 

It made sense. He wasn't happy though. But he hadn't argued after that. His life was never meant to be his own. Some time or other he would have had to marry someone his father had chosen. But he’d kind of assumed it might be Lady Lunafreya. They had been close as children, until Tennebrae had been annexed by the Empire. They'd just freed themselves, so Noct thought they'd come to his father with an offer of a treaty. But instead the Empire had got there first. 

So now he had to dress up fancy and get married to some Niff. 

Once he was dressed he headed down to the throne room. Gladio was already waiting at the high landing, and Noct fell into place beside him, Specs on his other side. “You seen him yet?” The Shield asked, looking towards the open doors. They spoke quietly, not wanting to be overheard by the King and Queen only a few steps away. 

“Nah.” He didn’t really care to, anyway. It didn’t make any difference what the Niff looked like. Even if he was scarred and hunchbacked, Noct wouldn’t have any choice about marrying him. 

He got a disinterested grunt in response. And then the throne room doors opened. 

Well. He _wasn’t_ scarred and hunchbacked. He was almost… pretty. The flawless pale skin of his face was framed by long, straight locks of sunny blond hair. He wasn’t tall, but his stride was confident and calm. It wasn’t until he had stopped at the foot of the stairs and gave a deep bow to the King and Queen that his eyes moved to the man he was supposed to marry. 

  
(...) 

Prompto almost stopped breathing. It was lucky he had come to a standstill, because he would have faltered once he saw who it was standing on the upper landing of the stairs to the thrones. 

At first he’d been terrified that it was the huge, hulking muscle-man he was going to marry. That man would _break_ him. The serious face was handsome and stubbled, but scarred down one eye. But then he noticed that he was wearing the exact same outfit as Scientia, and let himself relax. That meant… the man between them was his intended. 

His breathing almost stopped again. That man was gorgeous. He had a cold sort of beauty, the features delicate and beauty - but arranged in a blank mask. He watched Prompto as if he was some everyday person who had wandered into the throne room. 

_Calm_ , he thought. _Uncle Ardyn had told him to be calm._ Taking a deep breath, he bowed again - to the prince this time. Slightly shallower than he’d offered to the king and queen, but still much deeper than the people had offered to him. The prince inclined his head in acknowledgement, and with another deep breath he began his ascent of the stairs. 

Once he reached the lower landing, before the stairs parted to reach the upper landing and the dias upon which sat the thrones, he stopped and waited to be addressed. 

“Prompto Aldercaapt, Prince of Niflheim and Duke of Gralea. We welcome you to Lucis, in hopes of the union that will bring peace to our great nations.” The King had a deep, noble voice. Sure and audible throughout the whole throne room. 

Prompto bowed his head politely. “I thank you, King Regis Lucis Caelum, the One-Hundred-and-Thirteenth in the line of the Lucii.” 

There was a pause as a few whispers died down amongst the gathered crowd. 

“Prince Prompto, are you entering upon this union freely and knowingly?” The King asked. 

“I am.” Was the term ‘willingly’ purposefully excluded? He felt like it had to be. It was hardly their own will that they were being married today. 

The king asked the same question of his own son, whose voice - surprisingly deep and velvety-smooth - was emotionless as he replied “I am” in kind. Prompto felt a shiver down his spine, but didn’t let himself think about it long enough to figure out what it was. At a slight gesture from the smiling queen, he walked up the other side of the split stairs until he was facing the prince. His groom. 

_Calm_ . 

“Peoples of Lucis,” the king intoned, “we are gathered here today to witness the union between Prince Prompto of Niflheim, and the Crown Prince Noctis. As the ice goddess Shiva and the infernian Ifrit were bound, so shall these two be wed.” 

He held up a length of red and blue ribbon and Prompto blinked in confusion. Until he saw the prince raise his left hand towards Prompto. He made a silent ‘oh’ of realisation and raised his in turn so their left palms were touching. He got a weird look from the prince from that, but neither of them spoke as the king and queen wove the ribbons around their hands and wrists until they were bound together. 

“May those bound together by the gods not be torn asunder by the will of mankind,” the king pronounced. “Prince Prompto, do you submit yourself to matrimony under all facets of Lucian law?” 

“I do,” he answered, making sure his voice was steady. 

The queen asked the same of Prince Noctis, who hesitated only the barest moment before repeating the vow. The King and Queen clapped their hands three time, a noise that was echoed by bells high up in the tower. The sound of them struck Prompto right through to his bones. 

“Prompto and Noctis Lucis Caelum, I pronounce you husbands bound in matrimony by the laws of this land. Let all feast and be merry!” 


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter involves sexual content.  
> Warnings involved: dubious consent/non con depending on your line, non-consensual voyeurism. See end notes for specifics.

They were sat at a table alone, at a distant from all the other people. The king and queen were on a raised dais eating alone. The prince’s muscly Shield and the advisor were closest, with his assigned guard Ulric with them, but their table wasn’t close enough for them to talk with each other. 

But Prince Noctis wasn’t saying anything either. He was just dissecting his food and drinking as much champagne as he could get his hands on. 

“The fish is nice,” Prompto offered, attempting to start some kind of conversation. 

The prince turned to him, eyebrows twitching up with surprise. “Do you fish?” He asked. He sounded almost enthusiastic, or the closest to it Prompto had heard. 

“I’ve never been,” he admitted. 

The interest immediately died. The other prince made a grunt of acknowledgement and started taking apart his salad again. 

“I’ve taken some nice photos of lakes and stuff,” he started, words tumbling out fast. “I could show you some, if you like. Do you like photography?” 

There was a long pause, Prince Noctis blinking at him a couple times. “No,” he answered eventually, the single word short and clipped. 

“Oh.” He let the silence fall between them. He set the knife and fork down, together on his plate to indicate he was full. 

Prince Noctis finished his glass of champagne and grabbed the bottle to pour another one. Prompto sighed but didn’t say anything. If he wanted to be drunk to get through this wedding, he didn’t blame him. 

The King and Queen left, all eyes tracking their progress out of the room. Then Prompto tensed when he felt them all turn on him instead. 

There was something expectant in their gaze, it almost felt predatory. “What is happening now?” He asked Noct, making sure his voice was steady. 

The prince looked uncomfortable. It was one of the first actual expressions Prompto had seen him use. “The Feast is over. Next comes The Consummation. They’re waiting for you to leave so they can go wait in the Bridal Suite.” 

Prompto’s muscles clenched as his meaning sunk in. “You mean they **watch**?” He asked, horrified. 

Prince Noctis’s expression was unreadable again. “Always, for royal and noble weddings. As proof that the marriage has been consummated. So no one can call the legitimacy of the union into question.” 

He felt sick. The delicious food was trying to crawl back up to his throat. He swallowed. “Oh. We don’t… do that. In Niflheim.” The prince glanced at him quickly, and then away. Prompto took a deep breath. “Okay. I better go prepare. Before.” He wasn’t made for this. Men’s bodies weren’t meant to lay with other men. It could not be comfortable, but at least he’d found out how to make sure it didn’t _hurt_. 

Prince Noctis looked surprised. “Oh. Are you… Do you want to be on the bottom?” 

“Wasn’t that what you expected?” 

The prince looked uncomfortable again. “I didn’t think about it. Would you like Ignis to help you?” 

He nodded. It was a good idea. At the least, Scientia would be able to show him the rooms where he was supposed to go. 

The prince made a gesture, and the advisor came over in quick steps. “Highness?” 

“Prince Prompto would like to prepare. Can you show him where to find…?” He trailed off, and his face - already flushed with alcohol, deepened slightly. 

Ignis pressed a fist over his chest and gave a shallow bow. “Yes, Highness. Prince Prompto?” 

He stood on shaky knees, keeping his expression as calm as he could manage. He could feel all the eyes in the room, tracking the movement. Keeping his head high and his shoulders straight, he followed Ignis out of the room, Ulric following behind them. 

It was the room he’d been led to before, and Scientia showed him through one set of doors to a bathroom. There was a deep bath of milk and rose leaves already waiting. There was another door leading out, but Scientia closed it firmly. He helped Prompto undress out of the fancy fastenings of his wedding clothes. When he gently batted away his hands, the Advisor excused himself to “gather the appropriate supplies.” 

He bathed awkwardly, intensely aware of what was coming. Scientia returned ten minutes or so later with a jar of oil and a set of silky pyjamas. 

“Do you need assistance with the...physical preparations?” 

He felt the blood drain out of his face. “N-no. That’s okay. I...read about what to do.” 

Scientia paused as if to say something, and then bowed his assent. “Very well. Ring the bell if you need anything. Wait through there when you are finished and Nyx Ulric will keep you company until it is time.” 

He used his fingers and the oil to prep himself, stretching himself wild. He didn’t know how...big the prince was going to be. But surely three fingers would be enough, along with plenty of the oil. 

After that was gone he scrubbed his hands clean and then dressed in the black pyjamas, heading back out to his rooms. Ulric was standing by the door, looking serious. There were things laid out on the coffee table - chocolate covered fruits and small, delicate macaroons, dusted candies, and a couple bottles of champagne on ice. He just grabbed a glass of ice and toyed with that, sucking on small chips to wet his increasingly dry mouth, and running cold fingertips across his forehead and temples, behind his ears and the hairline at the nape of his neck. He felt so _nervous_. 

He could hear splashing and drunk-loud talking from the bathroom. When it went quiet in there, Ulric cleared his throat and nodded. “Time to go.” 

“Fuck me,” he murmured anxiously under his breath. He rose to his feet, awkward about the feeling of slickness. He had to do this. For his kingdom. 

Ulric led him to another part of the palace - a room with huge windows looking in to a bed. There were people crowded inside the room and gathered by the windows to spy in. 

Oh six. Help him. How was he supposed to _do_ this? Ulric led him in and hands brushed across him as he crossed to the bed. The white sheets were pulled back, and he slid underneath nervously. Hidden from view, he wriggled out of his silk pants and waited. 

Moments later the crowd shifted again as Prince Noctis entered, dressed in the same black pyjamas. Though his were fitted. He looked unsteady on his feet, eyes almost glazed, face flushed. He crawled onto the bed, expression shifting with something. He kicked out of his pants, uncoordinated, and tugged the sheets up over his shoulders. 

Prompto couldn’t forget the crowd of people gathered around the bed. Some people seemed disgusted, judgemental - for the act of sodomy they had to witness? Then why did they make themselves come to watch. 

Prince Noctis moved between his legs, “ready?” He murmured, champagne-sour breath ghosting across his face. 

He nodded. “Y-Yeah. I am.” He was prepped. Time to lie back and think of Niflheim. 

The prince’s dick was soft against his inner thigh, but he coaxed it up with a few pumps of his fist. Hard enough, he shifted his hips forward against Prompto’s. The dry dick rubbed across his sac and back across his perineum, rubbing through the slick oil. The deep voice groaned with pleasure, but Prompto felt a surprised gasp escaping him too. That. Had almost felt good. 

The prince humped forward again with another groan, shifting to bury his face in Prompto’s collar. His dick slid along the same stretch of skin, catching against his slick hole but gliding past. And back and forth again, slipping past his entrance again. Prompto didn’t get it. Wasn’t he supposed to like… push in? That’s what the manual had said. 

“Noctis,” he said, breath gasping as he slipped over his entrance again. “Just…” He shifted his hips and spread his thighs a little wider. This time, when the prince’s dick thrust forward, it pressed against something inside him through the skin. A startled moan escaped him. What was **that**? 

Prince Noctis groaned a pleasured, “Yeah!” and gave a few more quick, hard thrusts. Then he cried out in pleasure and Prompto felt his jizz splatter all over his crack and balls. He froze in place. 

The prince flopped bonelessly on the bed beside him, then lazily patted Prompto’s face. “S’nice. Thanks,” he slurred. 

The crowd began to disperse, thankfully. But Ignis Scientia stayed behind. He cleared his throat and Prince Noctis groaned, lifting his head. “Speccy?” 

“We need to hang the sheets, Highness. You can go back to your bedroom.” 

Noctis huffed and stood up, swaying, pulling his pyjamas back on. “Fine.” And then he left, followed by Gladiolus. 

Prompto discretely tried to clean himself on the sheets and pulled his pyjamas back on. “Can I…?” 

“Nyx will show you where.” 

Prompto nodded and, feeling strangely numb, headed out after his guard. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings clarification:
> 
> Characters in an arranged marriage are pressured to commit sexual acts while in a room of people. It is non penetrative sex where one character is clearly depicted as drunk, and the other expects not to enjoy it but does feel pleasure.


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings for: hypnotism/mind control.

It was a few days later when Uncle Ardyn finally came to Insomnia to negotiate the peace treaty. His days had been awkward. It was clear despite everything that the Lucii didn’t trust him. He had four awkward meals with Prince Noctis where he attempted two or three topics before giving up to resigned silence. Whenever he was outside of his rooms in the Citadel, hushed conversations came to a stop and people stared. 

He’d visited around Insomnia a bit, to the same level of wariness. Except at the orphanage, nobody was glad to see him. And they were only really happy because he bought a sizeable donation. His personal funds from the Gralean treasury had finally connected to an Insomnian bank. They wouldn’t be too happy back in Niflheim, to hear that he was spending their taxes on a foreign orphanage, but at least one of the Insomniac newspapers presented it in a mostly positive light. (There were some allusions towards him either bragging about the wealth stolen in invasions, or trying to buy the affections of their most vulnerable citizens. But. Mostly positive.) 

On the fourth day, he waited on the stairs for Uncle Ardyn’s entourage. He embraced his uncle tightly, and firmly took Commodore Highwind’s arm in greeting. He was allowed to host them for tea before they had to meet with King Regis. 

“My dear boy… are they making you feel welcome?” His uncle asked, smiling. 

“Of course,” he said easily, smiling. 

The two of them looked at him a moment. “My dear boy, would you tell me the truth?” 

He sighed. “It’s lonely. The people don’t like me, and Prince Noctis and I have nothing to talk about. But I don’t expect it to be any different.” 

A slight smile twitched at Chancellor Izunia’s mouth but he quickly composed it. “You’re both young men of royal upbringing. You’re bound to have something in common.” There was something shining in his eyes, a meaning Prompto couldn’t understand. “Give it time.” 

This was why he hadn’t bothered telling the truth, he knew exactly what his uncle would say. He stirred sugar around his half-empty teacup. “He’s busy. It doesn’t matter.” 

“Hm,” his uncle acknowledged. He updated him about the going-on in Niflheim, the progress of his charity projects in Gralea, the fallout from his failure at Fennestala. “It truly is for the best that you were able to get away when you did. His imperial majesty is furious.” 

Prompto sighed. He wasn’t surprised, and it truly didn’t hurt all that much. He had long since given up on expecting anything but disappointment from his father. 

Eventually, Commander Drautos arrived to escort the Chancellor and Commodore Highwind to the meeting in the throne room. 

Prompto paused, watching as the commander and commodore stepped out to allow him a private goodbye with his uncle. He felt a frown creasing at his brow. 

“What is it, my dear boy?” 

“It’s nothing, Uncle. Only… doesn’t Commander Drautos look so very _familiar_ do you?” 

There was a pause. “Prompto, would you look in my eyes?” 

With a confused “hm?” he did just that. Were his uncle’s eyes always that golden colour? He found himself entrapped in that gaze. 

“The sylleblossoms in Tennebrae bloom black and blue.” 

A familiar calm overcame him. It was like he was standing in the middle of a field, surrounded by bruise-black flowers, with a river babbling nearby. He felt a smile cross over his face, and the gentle wind seemed to be whispering to him, though he couldn’t hear the words. But he knew whatever was said, it was important to follow. 

“Prompto, would you wake up?” 

“Hm?” He blinked, bursting free from his daydream. “Sorry, what were you saying, Uncle?” 

Ardyn only smiled. “Nothing, my dear boy. You must be tired. Would you like to return to your room and rest for the remainder of the day?” 

He smiled. He did feel very tired. He was sure he had been before. He nodded. “Of course. You always know what is best for me, Uncle.” 

There was something about his smile, as one hand rose to stroke through Prompto’s long blond hair. Part of him wanted to name it sadistic, but he dismissed the word immediately. His uncle had always been kind to him. Always knew what was best for him. Always had his interests in mind. There was nothing about him that was cruel or suspicious. 

“You better go to your meeting.” 

*** 

Prompto wasn’t exactly how it had been decided. But after the meeting in the throne room, Uncle Ardyn informed him that he and Prince Noctis were to go on a wedding tour across the country. To introduce him to the populace, and familiarize them both with the world outside the Wall. 

He couldn’t remember the details of the treaty that had been decided upon. His marriage had _something_ to do with it. And when King Regis died, both he and Noctis were to rule the Kingdoms of Lucis and Galahd and \- when the Emperor passed - he would become emperor of Niflheim too. Essentially, uniting the lands of Solheim once again. 

It had always been his father’s goal. He wasn’t certain precisely what the Lucii were getting out of the deal. Other than sharing in the glory of their empire. 

So days after the terms of the treaty were discussed, they were to set out into the Lucian territories for their wedding tour while the signing took place. (Probably because the Emperor didn’t want to see his failure of an heir just yet.) 

They were taking the king’s very own Regalia - one of the most advanced cars in the kingdom, though it still didn’t fly, Prompto noticed. 

They were to be attended by Ignis Scientia, and guarded by the prince’s Shield Gladiolus Amicitia. Prompto had wanted his own guard too, but the car really didn’t suit a fifth passenger, and Drautos had insisted that Nyx Ulric was needed at the Citadel during the treaty signing. 

Prompto prepared with enthusiasm - especially since he had finally purchased an imported camera for himself. He had spent a couple days getting used to the settings, but couldn’t wait to capture the greater Lucis. 

He paused. Capture it on film. Of course. 

Shaking his head to himself, he tucked the camera carefully into its belt bag and headed to the door. His clothes had long since been commissioned by Scientia, from one of the foremost bespoke designers in Lucis. It was no Westwood designer, but Prompto quite liked it. There was the formalwear, of course. But some of the most comfortable pieces were sleeveless shirts and comfortable trousers. 

He wore one of these casual outfits the morning they set out - the shirt had a geometric design, and the pants were in an almost-invisible ceourl print. It came with a badass leather jacket, with a red tartan about the tails to add his kingdom’s colours. Feeling bold and trendy, he added a pair of leather gloves, some spiked bracelets (including a thick leather armband to cover his tattoo) and felt very roguish as he fastened a black bandana around his toned biceps. 

Then Ulric led him to the courtyard, where the car awaited to take them to the city outskirts. 

He was glad he had dressed down. The others were similarly casual - the Shield wasn’t even wearing a _shirt_ under his short-sleeved leather jacket. 

Scientia bowed to him and held open the back door. “Are you ready, highness?” 

“As ever,” he agreed. He paused slightly, before he stepped into the backseat. Prince Noctis was already half-asleep, looking surly and impatient in the other end of the connected seat. “Actually… could I sit in the passenger seat instead? Sometimes I get a little carsick over long distances on land.” 

The shield grunted. “Works for me. I need the legroom in back anyway.” 

Prompto stood aside to let him take the place and there was only a brief pause before Scientia opened the passenger seat side door for him instead. He scooted the seat forward and adjusted it a little so it wasn’t as reclined - giving the huge mass that was the prince’s Shield room to spread. Yeah, he couldn’t imagine it would’ve been comfortable for him to be squeezed into the footwell of the passenger seat the whole time, his knees crushed up against the gearbox. 

Prompto thought the journey was off to a good start. And then a few miles away from the Ostium Blockade when the car started making a gods-awful sound, and the noxious fumes of the petroleum intensified. 

“That doesn’t seem good,” he commented. 

And then there was a loud bang and the car spluttered to a stop. He would have said ‘I told you so’... but these people weren’t his friends. He wasn’t sure that they wouldn’t take his teasing the wrong way. 

Prince Noctis, who had been fast asleep moments before, sat up. “Why did we stop?” Had he… slept through the sound of the blowout? 

“Apologies, Highness. We appear to be having some engine trouble.” Scientia paused a moment, and then pressed the button to start the engine. It made a painful whine and then conked out again. 

Prompto eyed the bluish-white smoke that was spewing out of the tailpipe. “I wouldn’t do that again.” 

The advisor’s hands clenched on the steering wheel, the leather of his fancy driving gloves creaking under the strain. When he spoke, his voice was clipped and angry: “Would you like to take a look?” 

Prompto shrugged and threw open his door. “Sure. I mean, I have no idea how these kinds of archaic engines work, but I had to learn how to fix the army vehicles in the Empire.” He climbed out and headed to the front, testing the bonnet was cool enough before he popped the side fastening and lifted up the two winged edges. 

The stunned silence from the car that had followed his words broke when Prince Noctis repeated: “Archaic?” in outraged disbelief. 

Prompto ignored him. Maybe not archaic, but this thing was far from outdated in the Empire. Only vintage collectors really had stuff like this. Humming to himself, he leaned over the side of the bonnet to get a better look in at the engine. He hummed as he studied the basic compression engine, the pistons. He wriggled some to check they were in order and then paused. Was that thing keeping those different bits components supposed to be cracked like that? ...probably not. 

He stood up and wiped the sweat off his forehead. It had been a while since he’d been in the desert, let alone half-buried inside the interior of a car that had been running moments ago. 

“Figure it out?” Amicitia grunted, looking at him completely unimpressed. 

“Uh. Perhaps.” He tried to explain what it was he had seen, shaping it in the air with his hands and making liberal use of terms like ‘doohickey’ and ‘thingawhats’. The others just stared at him as if he was talking nonsense. 

Awkwardly, he rubbed the side of his face, hiding his expression from them. “I don’t think it’s going to be a simple fix. It looks like it needs new parts. And all your patroleum is leaking out onto the road.” 

The prince groaned and threw himself back onto the seat. “Ugh. Great.” 

“No need to stress, Highness,” Scientia said calmly. “I took the liberty of getting some mechanical contacts from His Majesty before we departed. In the circumstance we had car troubles.” He took out the sleek phone and began to dial. 

After two attempts that rang out, they opened up their phones and fiddled with the road maps application. “It looks like the station isn’t too far from here.” 

“One of us could hitch there,” Prompto offered. The others looked at him in disbelief. “What? Ulric said people outside the Crown City were friendly.” 

“I will keep attempting the contact number,” Scientia declared, doing away with that responsibility. 

In the end it was decided that Amicitia would hitch to the station, as he could carry anything back. The prince quickly grew too hot in the backseat of the car and headed to sit at the back, where the car was casting a little patch of shade he hid in. 

Prompto took the opportunity to take photographs of the landscape. The rocky formations and lopsided pylons were nothing like the deserts of home, and they sure made interesting subjects to capture. He even managed to capture some shots of distant wildlife, but when he asked what they were he didn’t receive a response. 

But his thirst quickly got the better of him. He got his bottle of water from the car and offered it to Scientia and Amicitia, who only glared at him. 

Then he took it over to Prince Noctis, who muttered a tired “thanks” and began to take long, slow sips. Prompto dropped lazily onto the ground beside him, soaking up the shade as well. 

“You know about engines and stuff, huh?” Noctis asked. 

Prompto was silent a moment, shocked that the other prince had actually tried to start a conversation with him for the first time. He shrugged. “A bit. Basic repairs and stuff - but that’s all the advanced tech from the Empire. I wouldn’t know what to do with shi… _stuff_ like yours.” 

The prince was silent again for another few drinks. A honking car passed, seemingly to tell them to get off the road, flipping an obscene gesture through the window as they circumvented them. 

Well… the prince had made an offer. He should return it. He held out the camera in his direction slightly. “Want to see some pictures?” 

“No.” Noct replied. 

Well. “Okay then.” He lowered the camera back down, feeling something deflate in his chest. 

“You… uh. You’ve got. Oil or grease or something. On your face.” 

He groaned. Right. Lucian engines were filthy. He unwrapped the bandana from around his arm and rubbed at his face where he had swiped sweat away. 

The prince paused, then hesitantly said: “No, a little bit to the… May I?” Carefully, he offered out a hand. 

Prompto hesitated a moment, but then passed the bandana to him. The prince leaned close and wiped across his cheek and jaw. His breath hitched as the fabric slipped slightly and cool fingertips brushed his cheekbone. They met eyes for a long moment, and _something_ instense passed between them. 

Then Noctis quickly dropped the bandana onto the road between them. “There. It’s gone.” 

“...thanks,” he murmured. He refolded it so the stains were hidden and quickly knotted it back into place. 

Another car drove past, honking and undertaking, but not even slowing down. 

“I think we can forget about hitching our way there,” Amicitia growled. “Thought people were friendly outside the city,” he mocked, echoing Prompto’s earlier comment. 

Well. Ulric had said it, not him. Prompto didn’t expect any Lucian to even piss on him if he was on fire. 

“You can only go so far on the kindness of strangers,” Scientia responded, his voice irritable. 

“Unbelievable,” the prince groaned, pushing himself up onto his feet. 

The Shield pulled a face at him - mocking… no, teasing. There was no malice behind it. “Not exactly a fairytale beginning, huh Prince Noctis?” 

“These things happen,” Prompto murmured, heading back around to the passenger seat. 

“Let’s just hope this isn’t some omen,” the Shield growled sourly. 

Noctis pulled a face at him as he settled back into the passenger seat and grabbed a fresh water. “Gladio, do me a favour? ...push this thing to the garage.” 

“Push? The _car_?” 

Prompto tried to bite down a smile. “And here I thought vehicles were supposed to _move people_.” 

“You’d best save your breath for pushing,” Scientia teased. Huh… these three really were quite close, weren’t they? 

The Shield punched the advisor’s arm before he leaned against the car. “Try calling them again.” 

There was a pause as they waited, watching Scientia hold the phone to his ear with an increasingly irritable expression. 

“Any luck?” Prince Noctis asked hopefully. 

“Only a busy signal,” he responded, and placed the phone back into its cradle on the dash. 

“Well… we could always walk!” Prompto offered. 

“Walk?” Noctis repeated. “In _this_ heat?” 

“It’s not so bad,” Prompto said, stretching. He tucked another water bottle in his pocket. “It’s just along this road, right? It’s not like we can get lost.” 

“...it does sound more sensible than pushing the car all the way there,” Scientia conceded, in a tone of responsibility. “Very well. Let’s arrange the matter.” 

“I’m cool to go,” Prompto volunteered, gesturing to his newly accessorised water bottle. “I can get some snaps on the way too.” Did that sound a little too eager? Oh well. “And I can tell them about the-” He gestured to encompass the cracked part of the engine. “Broken whoozawhatsit.” 

“We cannot allow you to wander the Lucian countryside unattended,” Scientia commented, his voice grim. “It’s hardly appropriate. Or safe.” 

“I don’t like the look of some of the wildlife,” Amicitia grunted, eyeing a nearby herd of fat four-legged creatures with large horns. 

“Are you volunteering?” Prince Noctis grunted, unimpressed. 

“Someone really ought to stay with the car,” Scientia added. 

“Shotgun!” Noctis called, determined. Uh… maybe that was like bagsing it? Prompto had no idea. 

“If you stay, then it’s best if Gladio stays with you. For your protection.” 

Gladio? That must be Amicitia’s nickname. It sounded tougher than Gladiolus anyway - more like Gladiator, than a pretty flower. 

“Then you better go with the prince,” the shield grunted, tilting his head towards Prompto to clarify which he meant. 

Scientia sighed unhappily. “These are my _good_ loafers.” 

Prompto tried to give him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. I’m sure there’s a diner or somewhere you can put your feet up while they send the tow truck to collect the car?” 

Noctis sat up and glared. “I’m not staying in the hot car if there’s a nice cool diner to wait for the tow!” 

Somehow, Prompto wasn’t exactly sure, it was decided that they would lock and seal the car safely, and _all four_ of them would go on foot to the outpost. Prompto didn’t care, really. The three of them bantered - complaining or remarking, and he jogged ahead to line up really cool shots, and then had to jog to catch up to them after they passed him. 

He came up to one of the tilted pylons and an idea hit him. “Hey! Amicitia, come here! I just had a really cool idea for a shot!” 

The Shield grunted and caught up to him. “What are you talking about?” 

“Dude,” he said, too excited to remember he should probably be more formal with these people. “Just stand over there and like, hold your arms up like your pushing! It’ll make it look like you’re the one holding up the pylon!” 

Amicitia was really dubious, but allowed himself to be directed into the right position. Prompto took a few shots and grinned. He opened the view-screen to look through them. 

“Whoa,” the prince’s voice sounded, from behind his shoulder. “That… actually looks pretty cool.” 

“I know right!” Prompto said, with a proud grin. He turned to show the Shield his shots. “What do you think?” 

The Shield blinked, carefully taking the camera to lift it to a better position. “How’d you do that?” 

“It’s just about… cheating the angles and stuff. It’s not a big deal.” He said, suddenly feeling self-conscious. 

The others looked at him a moment. “Hey, why don’t I take a group shot of the three of you together? You can put it in a photo album: Worst Road Trip Ever!” 

The other two looked at the prince in answer, who shrugged and muttered, “I guess so.” It was the closest to permission he was going to get. He’d never really had much opportunity for human subjects anyway. This was new. Good practice. 

His enthusiasm quickly waned. He turned to look back at them, snapping a sloppy shot he’d probably delete anyway. “Is it just me, or was this place supposed to be way closer?” 

“I assure you, the map is correct,” Scientia answered coolly, irritable as well. 

“The map said Hammerhead was right there!” Prince Noctis complained. 

“Literally next door.” There was nothing between the blockade and the little pin that denoted the station. 

“Looks that way, on a map of the world,” Amicitia said, almost mocking. Maybe teasing? No, they weren’t that close. 

The prince groaned, putting his arms up so he could rest his head back on his hands and look up at the cloud-dusted sky. “The world’s a big old place.” 

“Filled with wonders,” Amicitia agreed. 

“Tell that to my legs,” Prompto muttered. 

“Well, you’re the one who was running back and forth like a madman to take a thousand photographs,” Scientia commented, taking his glasses off to wipe the lenses free of sweat. “We shall be able to see the eponymous Hammerhead soon. Save your energy, Highness.” 

*** 

Dusty and sweaty and exhausted, they arrived at the gas station. They were quickly greeted by a goddess of a woman, dressed in very little (due to the heat, he figured). 

“Howdy y’all!” she said, looking them over. Her accent was so charming. “I just got your message! Did ya pass the big yellow truck? That was Paw-Paw going to get your car. She’s in the garage now.” 

Prompto averted his eyes. She was stunning, and charming, and if that pretty smudge of grease on her nose was right, she was probably good with their mechanics too. Not too long ago, he would have been instantly smitten with her. 

But he was a married man now. And even if he had the charm of being an actual prince, he was still an imperial. The Lucii didn’t take too kindly to him. 

She gave them all a look over, smiling. “Now, which one’s the prince?” She asked. 

Prompto glanced over at Noctis, who was giving him a look at the same time. “Him,” Prompto answered awkwardly, but realised the other prince had said it at the same time. 

She giggled slightly. But then her attention turned fully to Noctis. “Hello, your highness! Congrats on your wedding!” 

“...thanks,” Noctis said, uncomfortable. 

“The crown prince, here in Hammerhead!” she said, as if it was a wonder. 

“Apologies for taking so long,” Scientia intervened, drawing her attention and her gaze away from the increasingly uncomfortable prince. 

She giggled again. “You best save your apologies for Paw-Paw. He was _not_ happy when he came back with your beauty.” 

Amicitia stepped forward, a charming smile crossing his face. “And that makes you…?” He prompted, his tone flirtatious. Prompto kind of wanted to kick him. 

She smiled. “Cindy. Cid’s Grease-Monkey Granddaughter.” Was Prompto supposed to know what half of that meant? Because he got the granddaughter part, but the rest of it was just sounds. 

“I am Ignis Scientia. This is Gladiolus Amicitia, the prince’s shield. And may I present, the Princes, Noctis and Prompto Lucis Caelum.” 

She gave an awkward little bow, one hand between her perky breasts, er… bikini, watching Noctis. Her gaze strayed to his, hardened a little, but was soon replaced with a smile. “Y’all look exhausted, walking all the way here in those getups. Why ain’t’chya go take a load off, look around the shops.” With a thought, she produced a map. “Here. This’ll make sure you don’t get lost. Those fancy city-apps are useless outside the Wall.” 

“We had discovered that,” Ignis commented dryly, taking the map and vanishing it in a bit of crystal blue light. What the hell was that? 

“I’d better go check on Paw-Paw, see if he needs a hand.” She waved and strode off, hips swinging. 

“And now… we play the waiting game,” Ignis announced ominously. 

Prompto sighed and headed towards the little shop and the diner. “Never liked that game,” he murmured. 

“Never any good at it, either,” the prince remarked, falling into step beside him, with the others flanking their sides. 

“Might as well make use of the extra time,” Amicitia muttered. 

Noctis shifted. “Can you break formation, guys? There’s hardly anyone here. I don’t need a security detail.” 

It hadn’t been addressed to him, but Prompto sped up his steps a little so they were no longer in alignment. Scientia looked disapproving, but went towards the little shop. Amicitia disappeared towards a truck whose back was propped open and seemed to be displaying… a lot of old-fashioned weaponry. Really? 

He headed into the cool air of the shop, browsing the shelves. He paused, making a surprised hum. 

“What?” Noctis asked, apparently only a few steps behind him. “Oh, the Ebony? That’s coffee. Specs is mad for it.” 

“No, it’s just.” He gestured to the price-tag on the shelf. “They take Gil?” 

Noctis blinked. “Gil?” He repeated carefully. 

“You know. That’s the Empire Standard currency. I figured they’d use Crowns outside the city, too.” But… well, they probably did more trade with Altissia and the Empire than they did inside the restricted zone of the city. It made sense. “Did Scientia convert any money before we left?” 

“I...uh. I didn’t ask.” Noctis looked distinctly uncomfortable. 

“Well. I have my Gil-card anyway,” he replied. He grabbed a fresh pack of water, and even a carton of ebony to treat their stressed-out driver. Once it was all paid off - the clerk not even blinking at the Gil-card - he carried them into to the diner, where he found Scientia speaking with the prince. 

“...we’ve expended the last of our petty cash on the repairs. I’ve conferred with Cindy, but it seems as if we are...unable to access our accounts with the Insomnia Bank outside of the city limits.” 

Prompto sat down on the other side of the booth and slid the carton of Ebony over. “They only take Gil here?” He guessed. 

Scientia’s mouth tightened, but there was something almost blissful as he opened the carton and took out a can of energy. “Accommodation at various evenings have been pre-booked, and the deposits paid for. But I had budgeted for our cash funds to cover food and...other expenses.” He eyed the Ebony significantly and cracked it open. “It will take some time to organise a transfer of money from the Insomnia Bank to a local account.” 

“We can use my funds until then?” Prompto offered. He took out his Gil-card and passed it over. “There’s last year’s taxes from Gralea in there - my allowance, I mean. Minus the running costs and like… my charities. I can’t go wild and buy a new car or a house or anything like that. But it will be fine.” 

Scientia looked considering, as he looked over the card. “Would you permit me to control the funds?” He asked. “I would feel much more secure if I could handle the budgeting.” 

“Yeah,” he answered. It made total sense. “Put the Gil-Bank App on your phone and I’ll set everything up for you.” The two of them looked at him for a long moment, the prince suspicious, the advisor almost… suprised at his ready acquiesce. “What?” 

“It is unimportant. What app did you say it was again?” 


	4. Four

The Lucii are wary, and cold. But it isn’t until Keycatrich that they’re outright hostile. A place that once enjoyed great prosperity, it had been torn apart and it’s peoples driven underground during the Great War. He knew it to be a place of great victory, his father had always spoken of it with pride. But once he was there on the site of the former, now recovering city, he could only feel sad. 

He knelt in the dirt, lightly clenching his fist around a handful of gravel-like rubble at a place that had once been a school. 

“You okay?” He glanced up to see Noctis standing nearby, giving him a confused look. 

He sighed, and dropped his gaze down to the levelled foundations. “No. Not really.” He continued to crouch down, sifting the rubble through his fingers. “In Gralea… I never heard about this side of the war. People’s homes destroyed and lives still rebuilding decades after the war. It’s… I didn’t know it would be like this.” 

Noctis looked at him a long moment, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Well, what else were you expecting?” He sounded almost accusatory. 

He cringed slightly. “The glory of the empire?” He sighed and stood up, looking down at his feet. “Maybe that _is_ what I’m seeing.” 

Noctis looked at him for a long moment, then turned away. “Specs is waiting.” 

There isn’t much in the way of a hotel for them here, but one of the newly built houses has been lent to them for the evening. There are a collection of people gathered around the house. They were aggressive towards Amicitia, and it only got worse when Prompto arrived. 

“We think you should leave,” the apparent ringleader demanded aggressively. “We don’t want that _monster_ here.” 

Prompto didn’t flinch. But it was a close call to stop the automatic reaction. The crowd was only getting more angry. He saw something flying towards them from the corner of his eye, and he shifted quickly to block the prince with his shoulders. An egg splattered against his cheek, on the side where he’d been standing a moment before he’d moved. He’d thought it was petty, and harmless - and then the smell hit him. Rotten egg. He gagged. 

Another egg smacked against his back, the gooey mess soaking into his red shirt. And then another - and another. As he took the projectiles, Amicitia summoned a shield in crystalline blue magic to guard Prince Noctis, backing him away towards the door of their house. 

“Niff Scum!” Someone was shouting. It was taken up by the crowd. “We don’t want your kind here!” 

“That’s quite enough!” Prompto had never heard Scientia so authoritative, so stern. The crowd seemed startled into silence by it. “You still owe his highness the same respect you would show any prince of Lucis!” His arm curled protectively over Prompto’s shoulder, shielding him from the crowd. “We will vacate the city limits once Prince Prompto has cleaned up.” Without waiting for input, Scientia led him through the door and into the house. 

“Highness,” Amicitia’s voice was steady, calm. “Are you okay?” 

“It just stinks,” he said. He slipped away from them all and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He sunk onto the edge of the bathtub, untying his boots. He pulled off his socks and turned the hot tap up all the way. He sat still within it, watching the water slowly pool at the bottom of the white tub. 

Next thing he was aware of, there was a hand softly touching his. He startled and blinked, refocusing on the room around him. Noctis was crouched on the ground in front of him, his face settled into… was that concern? 

“Prompto?” 

“...yeah. Sorry.” He reached over to turn the water off, where it had been spilling over the side of the tub. 

Noctis sighed. He dipped the washcloth into the water, hissing a little at the temperature. Then he carefully - slowly enough as if he was trying not to spook Prompto - started to wipe the gooey mess off his cheek and neck. “Prompto?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Are you okay?” He murmured, his voice surprisingly gentle, calm and reassuring. 

He shuddered. “They hate me,” he mumbled reluctantly. “...I mean, I get it,” he added quickly, needing the prince not to think he was being arrogant. “I can see why they do. But… they hate me.” 

“It’s not you,” Noctis corrected him. “Just… what you represent. They hate the Empire.” He dropped the washcloth into the bathwater, and sat back to watch him. 

Prompto looked down at his hands. “I didn’t know it was like this. It’s supposed to be the Empire uniting Solheim, bringing all our technology and advances to the lesser kingdoms. That’s what I was always taught.” 

“It’s okay, Prompto. Here…” He held up his hand, which began to glow and steam with frost. He dipped it into the water and tugged out the plug, letting it drain a bit so it wasn’t threatening to overspill. The water no longer felt burning hot against his numb skin. “Why don’t you get undressed and wash up. We’ll move on, somewhere less hostile. Okay?” 

“Yeah.” 

Prince Noctis stood and gave him a brief smile, before turning to leave. 

Panic bursting in his chest, he reached out to hold his wrist. “Noctis? ...thank you.” 

The prince paused, lingering under his touch a moment. “You’re welcome.” And then he walked towards the door again, arm drifting back so their touch lingered as long as it could. 

*** 

Prompto was not as perfect as his carefully crafted appearance was meant to fool people into thinking he was. Everything from his flawless skin to his smooth, shiny hair. It was all a façade that took an hour of work each morning. 

Depending on his sleeping arrangements, sometimes he slept all done up and smudged the sheets. But he liked the nights where Scientia had managed to secure them separate bedrooms and he got to naturalise for the night, let his skin breathe. Though he’d started taking out his contact lenses, even when they were all rooming together. 

Most mornings started with him using the special chemical formula to remove the make-up. Engineered to echo his skin colour, but once sprayed on left a smooth and flawless layer over his skin. He’d outlived the time of acne (thank all six of the gods), but there was no time long enough that would banish his freckles. And then he’d have to go ahead and apply it all over again - using a sort of spray gun to get an even coating to mask his true colours again. 

Then (if he didn’t need to wash it), he’d comb his hair back into order, straighten it using a pair of flat irons and comb through the serum that kept it smooth and shiny. In went the contact lenses to correct his vision, and voila. Prince Prompto, as he was supposed to be. 

But there was one advantage to the façade - once he shed it, he was basically incognito. 

They were due to stay at Lestallum for three days. The second day was to relax, unwind from their busy schedule. Prompto planned to take advantage of that. 

On the first night, after the others had made plans to go out drinking in a local haunt, he yawned and said he was going to turn in early. Once they’d left the apartment, he’d stripped away his perfect disguise and dressed in some of his plainest, most casual clothes. Then he slipped out of the Leville and into the sunbaked streets. 

He headed along one of the main roads to a set of shops and slipped into one of the game shops. He headed up to the counter and waited for them to look at him. “Hello,” the man greeted, friendly. 

Amazing how friendly the people were when they didn’t see him as the Niff prince. “Hey. Executive account 00345?” 

The employee typed it in, and checked his face against the reference photo. Then, satisfied, he answered: “What can I do you for then, sir?” 

“I’ll grab one of those Lestallum special edition consoles with the new Assassin’s Creed preinstalled. Second hand if you’ve got one, but doesn’t matter either way.” 

The new AC hadn’t been released in Niflheim, or Accordo, because it featured a new protagonist in modern Lestallum, fighting against Imperials. But now he was here, actually in Lestallum, he couldn’t resist. 

He headed back through the city, head ducked to make himself more inconspicuous. 

Halfway back to the hotel, he heard a familiar voice call in confusion: “Prompto?” 

Guiltily, he looked over his shoulder. Prince Noctis was standing in the alley, looking at him. “...heyyyy. Thought you were out with the guys?” 

“I figured I’d give them the night off. I was just going back to the Leville…” He was still staring at Prompto, and he couldn’t read his expression. 

“Yeah. Me too,” he said awkwardly. “Uh. Wanna walk together?” 

The prince nodded and they kept walking together. Prompto was aware of his eyes, intensely on him at every moment. 

“What?” He whispered. “You’re staring at me.” 

“Sorry, I just…” He ran a hand through his hair, the dark strands shifting and then falling back into place. “You have _freckles_!” 

Ashamed, Prompto pulled a lock of hair down further to block out his face. “I know. Shut up. You don’t have to point it out.” 

“No, I’m not… I like them. They’re cute.” Prompto shot him a startled look \- the prince was blushing, rubbing the back of his neck. “So what did you buy at GameShop?” 

“The new Assassin’s Creed,” he mumbled. “Preinstalled on the console. It was banned in Niflheim.” 

“...yeah. I can see why.” They slipped through the back entrance of the Leville and up the stairs to the doors of their suites. “Uh. So… you’re just gonna play games tonight?” He asked. 

“That was the plan,” he said, nodding. There was something… expectant in the prince’s expression. “Uh. You wanna...come chill?” He offered awkwardly. 

“Uh. Yeah. If you don’t mind.” 

It took a while for them to get comfortable. They hadn’t really spent any time with one another, at least not for anything longer than a meal. The prince was so _quiet_. Prompto found himself babbling, without more than a word or two of input from Noctis. When he got conscious of that he trailed off awkwardly and stared at the screen as if it was absolutely absorbing. (It was an Escort mission, so it definitely was not.) 

And then, Noctis prompted him to speak again. It struck him, suddenly and harsh: the prince _liked_ his chatter. He wasn’t a talker himself, but the more Prompto babbled, the more he opened up. He lazed back against the couch, watching the screen but more frequently turning his eyes to Prompto and just… watching. 

As the night went on, they got closer. When they moved from the couch to the bed, the prince ended up with his head in Prompto’s lap, feet hanging over the edge of the mattress. Noctis became Noct-ss, became Noct as his tongue grew heavy and lazy. The prince never once corrected him on it. 

And then, as the loading screen ticked over back out of the Animus, he glanced down at Noct and noticed he was staring very intently at his chin. He squirmed self-consciously, “what?” 

“Nothing, it’s just… your freckles.” One delicate hand came up and traced a soft line under his lower lip. “You’ve got three here. They look just like the constellation of Archaeon’s Belt.” He traced the line again, but this time, his fingertip brushed the sensitive skin of his lower lip. 

A gasp escaped his lungs, lip pressing just slightly against the fingertip for the smallest instant. He felt like the touch was burning through his very skin, right down to his soul. Shiva’s tits, how needy _was_ he? 

He licked his lips, aware of how dry they were, and turned away, feeling his face heat with a blush. “Oh. Cool…?” 

“...yeah. Pretty cool.” 

At some point, he drifted off. He woke up warm and comfortable, and it took a moment to figure out where he was. He was in the bed, and Noct was spooned up behind him, their legs tangled together. The controller had disconnected and the little logo was bouncing around the screen. He shifted to turn the television off - Noct mumbled in his sleep and curled closer to him. Too sleepy to be worried, to even think about it, he just patted his arm and settled back in to sleep. 


	5. Five

Cape Caem was nice. Prompto liked it. There was a quaint little house, a rundown farm that was out of use. He got to watch Noct go fishing, and the prince let him do a photoshoot at the dock in the magic hour before twilight. 

They were all headed back to the house from the beach, Noct walking ahead with Gladio. A dark-coloured dog barked as he ran up towards Noct, who knelt down to great him. 

Prompto felt confusion pull at his features, and made a quiet hum. 

“What is it?” Ignis asked, from beside him. 

“Didn’t we see that dog in Burbost?” He asked, squinting at it. 

“Ah.” Ignis pushed up his spectacles. “It isn’t so much a dog, as it is a benevolent spirit summoned by ancient magics. He is one of the two familiars of Lady Lunafreya Nox Flauret - he acts as a messenger between the lady and Prince Noctis. Ever since their childhood friendship.” 

“Oh.” Lady Lunafreya. He knew her. He’d met her. When he was invading her home. He slowed to a stop. 

“Would you like to come inside, Highness?” Ignis asked politely. 

It was on the tip of his tongue to agree, but then he hesitated. “No,” he answered carefully. He held up his camera in explanation. “I’m going to the lighthouse.” 

He snapped a few photographs, but he quickly tucked his camera back into the sidebag. He didn’t have the effort for it. Instead he just leaned on the railing he watched the night spread over the ocean. 

“Prompto?” 

He turned his head to look at Noct, standing in the doorway. “Hey.” 

“What are you doing up here?” He asked, coming over to stand with him. 

“Just… thinking about stuff.” He leaned into Noct as he came to stand beside him, one arm around his waist and on the railing. 

“Is this about Luna?” He asked. “Specs said he spilled the beans about Umbra.” 

“Not really. Kinda.” He sighed. “Not the way you’re thinking.” 

“Are you jealous?” 

The question startled him. He turned his head around to look at him, and then felt confused about how close their faces were. “Should I be jealous?” 

“No. There was always rumours… about our friendship. I thought I might be made to marry her for a treaty one day.” 

“Oh.” He turned his face away. He thought maybe he should be. But he was just Noctis’s treaty husband. He had never been his choice. Noctis would have never picked him over anyone else. “Do you love her?” 

“She’s my friend.” 

That wasn’t exactly an answer. But Prompto let it go. In the end, it wasn’t his business. “I only met her the once. When I was sent to crush the rebellion in Fennestala.” 

He expected Noct to step away, horrified with him. Instead, one finger began to trace over his knuckles. “I know. She told me. When she found out about the alliance.” Prompto was silent - because what could he say to that? “She told me you ordered them not to burn down the Manor. Despite orders from higher up.” 

He struggled slightly in his grip, turning to look at him in disbelief. “You **know** about that?” 

Noct’s face was soft. His hand raised to hold his face, thumb tracing the constellation of freckles hidden under his make-up. “Yeah. I know you refused to burn down the manor when you found out they were housing an emergency hospital there.” 

He cringed. “No. I mean… you knew I was a commander. You knew I led the attack in Tennebrae. And you still _agreed to marry me_?” 

Noct tilted his head at him, a frown creasing his brows. “You know I wasn’t given a choice about this either, Prompto. I know you didn’t.” He stroked his thumb across the freckles again. “Why didn’t you follow the orders?” He asked. 

He avoided his eyes. “I thought… what I was told…” He took a deep breath, hating how shaky it was. “The Empire isn’t supposed to harm innocent lives,” he explained quietly. “Our Magitek Infantry… the M.T.s… they’re not. Not exactly human. So our citizens aren’t harmed in our crusade for Solheim.” He shifted restlessly in his grip. “I thought it had to be a mistake. There were citizens in there, wounded rebels. It didn’t follow our code.” 

“You’re a good man, Prompto. Luna thinks so too.” 

Prompto looked at him, meeting his eyes. The moon must be behind him, Noct was lit up and glowing with it. He looked beautiful, his face was so soft and open. For a wild moment, Prompto wanted to kiss him. Instead, he reached up to hold his wrist and gently moved it away from his face. “Thanks, Noct. That means a lot to me.” 

*** 

Galdin Quay was the last stage of their wedding tour. They pulled around the mountain at night, and Prompto’s breath escaped him at the sight of the glowing buildings upon the water. “I see the sea!” He managed out, at the glances from the other three. 

“I sea it too,” Noct said, shooting him a smile. 

They were greeted surprisingly friendly by the people there. Well, they did more trade with Accordo there, they’d be used to Niflheim. The first night they stuffed themselves full with delicious seafood at The Mother of Pearl and collapsed into bed, dated and comfortable. 

The next day, Prompto woke before dawn and took his camera to capture the landscape. On his way back to the beach, he found Noct on the dock, fishing with an utterly peaceful expression on his face. 

Gladio was sunbathing and flirting up a storm, while Ignis waited with eternal patience further down the dock from the prince. He joined the advisor on the dock, catching up on the events of the morning. 

He looked over at Noctis, fond. “Is he seriously catching a fish for a hungry cat?” 

“Noctis is very fond of animals.” 

He was too. Prompto had seen that. Sure, he didn’t love Chocobos as much as Prompto himself did… but he didn’t know if anyone else did. He realised Ignis was giving him a long, considering look. He offered out his camera, “wanna see the shots from my dawn shoot?” 

Noctis caught the fish, and carried it back up the pier towards the resort. About three quarters of the way down, he stopped in front of a small white cat. And then they had to go have the fish _cooked_. 

Six, how was Noctis so kind? To a creature that couldn’t even give him thanks. He watched him as they all waited for the chef Coctura to cook up the dish, and Noctis was gently cooing to the cat, scratching its ears and chin. 

“...you’ve become very fond of him, haven’t you?” 

Prompto turned to glance at Ignis. “Huh?” 

“Prince Noctis. During this trip, you’ve become quite fond of him.” There was something intense in Ignis’s eyes. But it wasn’t quite...judgemental. But it was very knowing. 

“I guess?” It wasn’t surprising. They’d hardly known each other when they left Insomnia. They’d been spending a lot of time with each other, since they’d first bonded over their shared love of video games. 

He was closer to Noct than he ever had been to anyone, couldn’t imagine living the rest of his life without him. They were wed. Yes, he was very fond of Noctis. He was... 

“Fuck. _Fuck_.” He was _in love_ with Noct. Panicked, he muttered something to Ignis - he couldn’t remember what - and fled back to their hotel room. 

How had this happened? How had he _let_ this happen? Noctis had only married him for a ceasefire to instrument a peace treaty. Neither of them had a choice in the matter. He’d hoped that they could become friends, marriage was a long journey for strangers. But he should have protected himself. 

Love. The only weakness that broke a man from the inside out. 

Fuck. 

Sternly he told himself that was enough of emotional nonsense, and he was going to stop being in love with his husband immediately. Once he’d talked himself into that, he headed out of the bedroom to the sitting room of their adjoined suites. 

Noctis was mid-laughter, head thrown back, the setting afternoon face glowing on his face. 

Prompto felt his heart skip in his chest. _Oh…_

Noctis met his gaze, and the laughter turned into something warm and fond. “Hey. Good nap?” 

“Y-yeah,” he lied. “It was good.” His knees feeling shaky, he headed over to take the only empty place - the other side of the loveseat from Noct. “Had enough fishing for the day?” 

Noct’s eyes glimmered with amusement, and he smirked. “Never. But these two have.” 

His heart thunked in his chest. _Six, save him._ “So, what are we laughing about?” 

“We’re playing Never Have I Ever.” 


	6. Six

“Never have I ever got drunk on champagne,” Prompto stated, raising his eyebrows at Noctis challengingly. 

The prince flushed - and gave him a half-hearted glare before taking one more finger off the table. There was now only two of his fingers on the table, and they were all gleefully ganging up against him. Gladiolus was next along, with four fingers - he’d done…. a lot. More than Prompto had really thought was possible. Ignis was next along, six fingers, and Prompto was seven. 

Purposefully after Gladio, Noctis declared: “never have I ever given oral sex to a woman.” 

Gladio rolled his eyes and folded his index finger over the edge of the table. Prompto folded down his right ring-finger down. 

He felt Noct’s eyes on him intensely. “Wait… who?” 

He avoided his gaze. “Oh. Just… uh… Commodore Highwind. I’ve… you know, _lain with_ a few women, but she’s the only one who let me…” He gestured with one waving hand, not really wanting to actually say the words. Embarrassed and flustered. 

“Oh.” Noctis’s jaw tensed a little, and his gaze finally moved away. “Specs, you’re up.” 

Ignis smirked. “Never have I ever been fucked by a man.” 

Gladio scoffed sulkily as he tucked a finger down - so did Noct, Prompto noticed, and wondered _who_ \- and muttered: “not from my lack of trying.” 

But before Gladio could go on with his question, he noticed that Noct and Ignis were staring, and followed their gaze to Prompto, and down to the seven fingers still on the table. “Prompto…” 

“Yeah?” He said, looking around at them. “What? I figured you meant… you know, penetrative sex.” 

“But you…” Noct sounded lost, bewildered. “We… Our wedding night.” 

He felt blood rush to his cheeks. “Uh. Well…” He shifted restlessly, drumming his fingers against the edge of the table. “You were… pretty drunk. I don’t think aiming was your strong point.” 

The prince pulled his fingers off the table and turned to Prompto - there was something desperate in his eyes. “But… I remember you… you were moaning, right? You finished.” 

He shifted again, feeling even more blood flood into his cheeks. “Well… no. Not exactly. It… It felt good, which, you know. I wasn’t expecting. But… well.” He shrugged, sliding his eyes away from the prince’s intense gaze. “I almost got hard?” He offered. 

Noct made a choked-off sort of noise and stood abruptly, rushing from the room and out onto the balcony overhanging the water. 

Prompto tried not to feel _hurt_. “What did I say?” He asked Ignis, turning to look at him. “How did I upset him?” 

“It’s not precisely you, highness,” the advisor answered. “It’s rather… well. It’s sort of...a courtesy to ensure your partner is enjoying the sex as much as you are. And that both of you should finish at least once.” He shifted. “As you indicated, Prince Noctis was quite intoxicated that evening. He has only the vaguest memories of the consummation. I imagine he’s quite displeased with himself to learn the truth of the circumstances.” 

“Oh.” Prompto pulled his fingers off the table and stood. “Well. I think we’ve finished playing for the night,” he said, resigned. “I’m turning in for the night. We have lot to do in the morning, don’t we?” 

“Quite. Ready for seven. Do you wish me to give you a wake-up reminder?” 

“No, I’ll be fine. Night Ignis, night Gladiolus.” He retreated into his bedroom and closed the door behind him. He felt agitated and out of sorts - and the night’s game had him in a strange, hypersensitive mood. Like most games of Never Have I Ever the questions had quickly turned dirty. Though when he’d overheard some guys play in college, and played just once with the other officers at the military training, they’d drunk for each question instead of taking down fingers. 

And Prompto had been reminded of the times he’d had before he was married - and all that he _hadn’t_ had since finding out he was betrothed. He cleaned off his makeup, dressed in his boxers, and tucked himself in bed. 

But it was hard to sleep. The window was open onto the balcony, and not even the cool ocean breeze and the gentle wash of the tides could soothe him into slumber. There was some strange noise, a burst of crystalline blue light, and then Noct was standing inside the window, sword in hand. He banished it, and carefully approached the bed. “Prompto…” 

“You okay?” He asked, propping his head up a little more on the pillows. 

Noct didn’t answer. He climbed onto the bed until he was on his hands and knees above Prompto, face hovering over his. “Let me make it up to you, Prompto. Please.” 

He wrinkled his face up in confusion. “Make what up to me?” He asked, confused. Noct looked so beautiful in the light coming through the window, the lights reflecting off the water and the moonlight. “Noct?” 

“Our wedding night,” he said, his voice low and husky. 

He flushed. “Oh. Ignis said you guys care about your partner’s pleasure,” he mumbled. “It’s okay, Noct. We’re only together because of the treaty. You could have to worry about me.” 

Noct reached up, cupping his face. He traced his thumb across his favourite freckles, thumb brushing the edge of his lip. “I don’t want to because we’re married, or because I’m supposed to get my sexual partners off.” He made another swipe of his thumb, this time across his lip proper. “I want you. I want to make _you_ feel good.” 

He licked his lips, chasing the taste of his skin. “I’ve never been with a man before, Noct. Before I moved here, I thought it was wrong. It’s illegal in Niflheim you know. I always thought men were sexy too, but I could never…” 

“Let me,” Noct begged, touching his lip again, pressing it so his lips parted. “Can I kiss you?” 

Prompto surged up, dislodging the finger so he could press their lips together. His hands, that he’d had under the sheets, gripping the mattress to stop himself from touching, moved up to grip his shoulders, hold him close. 

Noct moaned against lips and lowered himself down so their bodies were pressed together. His hair tickled against Prompt face and he shifted one hand to tuck it out of the way. It was so soft… 

He slowly began to grind up against the toned, warm body. He was half-hard already, and felt the same reaction against him. Together, they rocked their hips in a rhythm until they were hard and dripping, soaking his boxers. 

There were too many layers of fabric between them. He parted their lips reluctantly and tried to breathe as they continued to press their bodies together. “Noct,” he groaned. “Too many layers. I want to feel you.” 

Noct sat up, breaking their contact. His eyes were dark with lust, focused only on him. “Does that mean we’re going to do this?” His voice was wrecked with need. “You have to tell me yes, Prompto.” 

“Yes,” he said emphatically. “Get these clothes off and get under the sheets already. I want to feel you against me.” 

Noct was quick to divest of his clothes - the white shirt and skinny jeans. Then he pulled back the sheets to expose Prompto’s skin to the light. 

Embarrassed, he tried to pull it back up, cover his speckled skin and the hips and stomach ravaged with stretch marks. “Don’t-!” 

Noct shushed him gently, carefully unfolding his fingers from the sheets. “Let me look at you.” 

“I’m not made up,” he complained. He squeezed his eyes closed and turned his face away. “I don’t want you to see how disgusting I really am.” 

“Prompto,” Noct murmured, stroking his fingers over his hip. “You’re beautiful.” 

He squirmed away from his touch. “You don’t have to do this, Noct.” 

“What do you think I’m doing?” Noct asked, eyes staying locked on his as he leaned down to kiss the freckles across his chest. 

“Pretending you like my body,” he mumbled. “Trying to make me feel better. It’s okay.” 

“I’m not pretending anything,” Noct replied, shifting one hand to circle a finger around the outside of his nipple. “I like the way you look. You’re pretty when you’re all made up, but when I see you like this. You’re real. I’m not with the prince of Niflheim, perfect as a doll. I’m with Prompto.” He leaned in to kiss him, deep and lingering. “Gorgeous, kind Prompto.” 

He felt his cheeks flood with blood, reaching up to stroke fingers across his shoulder. “Stop…” 

“No,” he murmured in reply and kissed him again. “You’re so important to me, Prompto. I want to make you feel as beautiful as I see you.” 

He bit down on his lip as a weak moan escaped his lips. “I love you,” he gasped. 

Noct tensed above him, then pulled away to look down into his face. “What… what did you say?” He asked, his voice shocked. 

“Fuck,” he muttered. He squirmed away from him and grabbed at the sheets. “I didn’t say anything, forget it.” 

“Prompto.” Noct’s hands came up, cupped his face. “It’s okay. I heard you.” He leaned into to kiss him again, then just paused to breathe against his mouth. “I want to hear you say it again, one day. When you’re ready.” He shifted his hands down to cup Prompto’s ass in his hands. “Now, will you let me make you feel good?” 

Prompto took a deep, shaky breath and nodded. He pressed back into his hands. “Okay.” He leaned up to kiss Noct again. “Fuck me, Noctis. I want you.” 


	7. Seven

Prompto woke up, still lingering with bliss, curled in Noct’s arms. He’d lost count of how many orgasms they’d brought out of each other the last night. The sun was coming up by the time they were done, and he’d taken a few selfies of their blissed-out faces. With everything that they’d done, he didn’t think he had many technical ‘virginities’ left. He’d have a hard time of it next time they played Never Have I Ever. 

He kissed the prince’s face and slid out of the bed, grabbing a shirt from the floor beside bed. Noct’s - he smelled the collar with a gentle smile. 

He was almost finished putting on his make-up when he felt arms encircling him, and a nose pressing into the patch of his neck still uncleared. “Morning, Prompto.” 

He smiled and gently rested his head against Noct’s for a moment. “Morning, Noct.” He nudged him away reluctantly and finished putting on his make-up. “Ignis didn’t wake us up this morning.” He moved to pull on his favourite shirt and jeans. “Did you message him last night?” 

“No.” Noct said thoughtfully. “Though I wouldn’t put it past him to figure out what we were doing.” He kissed him again. “I have to shower.” 

Prompto kissed his cheek and then headed out to the living room. There was an explosion of movement and he felt arms clench around him. One around his neck, the other squeezing tight around his arms and lungs. Biceps that large, that strong - it could only be Gladiolus. 

His eyes welled up with tears - he told himself it was from the sudden block to his airflow. It had nothing to do with a sting of betrayal. He had trusted these people. He choked in enough breath as he raised his hands up placatingly. “I give. I give.” 

He was dumped into an armchair, and he felt manacles binding his ankles to the legs. He pressed his own hands to the armrests, wasn’t surprised when he felt ropes secured around them. When he blinked his eyes clear, he could finally focus on Ignis and Gladio. They looked like they wanted to tear him limb from limb. “The ropes are new,” he mumbled. “Usually just held at gunpoint.” 

Ignis’s eyes narrowed at him through his glasses. “Why don’t you keep your mouth shut before I let Gladiolus beat a confession out of you.” 

He obediently closed his mouth. Ignis paced about the room, Gladio sat on the coffee table flexing and unflexing his muscles as if he wanted to attack. 

Noct walked in, yawning and mumbling good morning. He froze as soon as he saw what was going on. “Somebody better start talking.” 

Ignis unrolled a newspaper with tense hands and held it out to the prince. “It’s in all the papers.” 

“Insomnia Falls…” Noctis read the headline. 

Prompto felt something in his chest collapse. A horrified whimper caught somewhere painful between his chest and his throat. 

“Is this some kind of **joke**?” The prince demanded furiously, scrunching up the paper in his hands. 

Gladio snatched it and smoothed it out to read, his voice a smooth, furious monotone. “As the royals gathered in the treaty room to sign the final agreement at long last, blasts lit the night sky. When the smoke about the Citadel had cleared, the king was found dead.” 

“That’s enough!” Noctis snarled, stepping towards him with a look of fury on his face. 

“I need you to calm down so I can explain,” Ignis said, his voice steady and cool. 

“I’m as calm as I’m gonna get!” 

“There was an attack,” the advisor continued, his eyes darting a suspicious, accusatory look at Prompto. “The Imperials have taken the Crown City.” 

“What?” Noctis demanded, breathless. “No. They couldn’t have… the wedding. The ceasefire…” 

“The reports of the attack are all the same.” 

Gladio’s biceps flexed, a huge sword appearing in his grip. “The whole thing was probably a ploy by the empire, to worm their way past their defenses for this attack.” 

Prompto choked and squeezed his eyes shut, so he didn’t have to see the accusation as Noctis realised how true it was. “You’re probably right,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. 

“‘Probably right’,” Gladio repeated, spitting the words. 

“It was foolish to think the empire would go peacefully into a treaty. The marriage had to have been part of a plan to gain access to the city. And then drew out the negotiations in order to give themselves time to figure out how to bring down the wall.” 

Ignis’s voice was cold, calculated - murderous. “I think we can take _that_ as a confession.” 

Prompto opened his eyes. Exhausted with grief and self-loathing. “I didn’t know. I believed in this marriage as much as anyone else did. I wanted a peaceful union, a solution to bring Solheim together without any more bloodshed.” He tried to meet the prince’s eyes, but his back was turned, shoulders shaking with rage. “But I don’t expect you - any of you - to believe me. To ever trust me again. Not now.” 

“Shut your fucking lying mouth, you Niff scum,” Gladio snarled, raising the sword up towards him. 

“Gladiolus,” Ignis called, his voice icy. “We need him unharmed to negotiate.” 

Prompto flinched, biting of a disappointed whimper. “They won’t negotiate,” he said, his voice rough with the lump in his throat. 

“What, a no-negotiation policy? You’re the goddamn crown prince. The Emperor’s only heir,” Gladio snarled. 

He just shook his head, a hollow feeling in his chest. “I’m expendable. He’ll just make another one.” 

“What are you talking about? Make another one?” Gladio reached a fist forward to grab his shirt, lift him up to strain against the bindings. 

“I mean I’m…” He sighed, glancing over at Ignis who was watching with a considering expression. “What do you know about the Magiteks?” 

He looked angry about being addressed, clenching his jaw and speaking through gritted teeth. “They’re the infantry of the Empire. Mass-produced humanoid weapons of warfare. Robots.” 

“Not exactly.” He huffed out in pain as the Shield dropped him back onto the seat cushions. “Robots are built, made of machine parts that run on electricity.” 

“...yes?” Ignis said carefully. 

“They’re more prostheses than artificial life.” He took a deep breath and looked in Noct’s direction. The prince was looking at him, expression completely blank. “There’s a facility in the mountains. Professor Verstael Besithia clones embryos from his own DNA and uses advanced growth techniques until they have fully developed organs.” He swallowed. “Then he rips out the central nervous system and encases it in the Magitek armours.” 

“That’s bar _baric_ ,” Gladio hissed. 

He stared at the prince, begging him to look at him. “You saw my barcode, Scientia. I think I’m the fourth prince the emperor has attempted? The first got pneumonia when he was still a child. The second went insane. The third killed in duty.” Giving up, he lowered his face to his lap. “The Emperor doesn’t care about the twenty years it would take to get another heir come of age. I’m expendable.” 

“You’re lying,” Gladiolus hissed. “You’d say anything to undermine our leverage power.” 

He gave a hollow laugh, squeezed his eyes shut. “I just told you I was expendable. That you’d be better off killing off me than attempting to use me as a negotiation tool. If I was lying, why would I do that? Why wouldn’t I tell you to keep me in good living conditions, if you touch a hair on my head the Emperor will burn your city to the ground?” 

“Untie him.” Noct’s voice was low, steady, commanding. Almost unarguable. 

But Gladio did argue. “You’ve got to be kidding. Let him _go_?” 

“You will untie Prince Prompto Lucis Caelum,” he continued, firmer now. “Then we’re going to go back to Insomnia.” 

“Is that safe?” Ignis asked seriously. “It will be dangerous there.” 

“It might be equally dangerous here,” Noct snapped in reply. “Now untie him and go pack up the car. We leave as soon as it’s done.” 

Gladio’s face screwed up in pure fury. He sliced through the ropes with the Greatsword and then stormed back out. Then he tossed a key into Prompto’s lap and stormed out the door, slamming it behind him. Ignis quietly stepped out of the room into the bedroom that had meant to be Noct’s for the night. 

He picked up the key in numb fingers - the ropes around his wrists were still tight, despite being severed. They tingled, and it hurt as he tried to fit the key into the lock on his ankle cuffs. 

He startled when they were taken out of his hands and easily fitted into the lock. “Stop,” he whispered. “Get off your knees, Prince Noctis. Don’t do this for me.” 

The prince ignored him, unlocking one cuff and then shifting over to the other. “Go wait in the car.” 

“Highness.” He tried again, desperately. “There’s no point in taking me back to Insomnia. I have no authority to go against the Emperor. The armies won’t listen to me if I order them to stand down.” 

The Prince didn’t answer, just vanished the cuffs with the weird crystal magic and stood, heading out of the room. 

He sighed in defeat and stood up. He tied his shoes on and tucked his wallet into his pockets. He headed out to the car. 

Gladio was waiting outside the Regalia. Prompto stood in front of him and stared until the Shield looked up at him. His eyes were murderous. “What do you want, Niff?” 

“Don’t make Prince Noctis have to do it,” he begged quietly. “When the time comes, when he realises he can’t use me to secure his kingdom. When it sinks in what I am. Take care of me first, please?” 

The Shield looked at him. “My little sister is in the city, you son of a bitch. You don’t get to ask me _anything_.” 

“Please,” he said. “I don’t want to die. But you can take as long as you want, make it as painful as possible. All I want is that Noct doesn’t have to do it himself.” He froze, and cringed. “Prince Noctis.” 

Gladio stared at him for a long moment. Then he turned away abruptly. “Get in the fucking car. His highness says we have to get back to the city.” 


	8. Eight

It was raining. Poetic. The water soaked into the dusty sand, and darkened the tarmac. His hands were bound up together, fastened to the an anchor in the footwell. He could have wriggled free, if he wanted to pop his thumbs out of their sockets. But that always took ages to heal. 

He shifted restlessly. “Do you think… many of your citizens made it out?” 

Gladio snarled: “what do you care?” 

He flinched, fiddled with the frayed edge of the severed rope. “Am I not allowed to care about collateral lives?” 

“That moral code, I presume,” Ignis commented, his voice cool. “Innocents aren’t meant to be harmed in the name of the Glory of Solheim.” 

Prompto tensed and stared at the prince in the rearview mirror. Blue eyes stared back at him, he couldn’t read what they said, but he was silent. 

He dropped his eyes back down to his lap. “I hope some people made it out anyway.” 

“Lot of good hoping’s gonna do,” Noct muttered bitterly, turning his face out towards the window. 

“Mustn’t lose faith, Noctis,” Ignis said calmly. “We’ve yet to discover the exact situation inside the city limits.” 

“Can faith stop _that_?” Gladio grunted, pointing out the window. 

Prompto followed the line of his meaty fist. “Imperial Dreadnaughts. At least ten units in that thing.” He shifted his gaze back out the passenger seat. “Reinforcements. That’s a good sign.” 

“For _you_ or for _us_?” Ignis asked coolly. 

“Specs.” 

Prompto toyed with the edges of the rope again. “For the invaded party. Reinforcements means the initial attack wasn’t enough to completely subdue and secure the location.” He squirmed and made himself comfortable. Then he paused. “Hold it. Pull over.” 

“Why would I do that?” Ignis asked. 

He pointed up ahead to the line of cars gathering. “Too many cars. I’m guessing it’s a blockade, or an inspection point. Nobody goes in, nobody goes out.” He shifted. “Or… they’re looking for Prince Noctis.” 

Ignis turned off onto a side road. “We’ll make a detour. There ought to be a decent vantage point past the old ruins.” 

“Go in armed. There’s probably an infantry camped out there. Supplies, setting up radio towers. Making sure your reinforcements don’t have anywhere close by to spy.” He glanced between them. “Your clothes bulletproof?” 

“...marginally.” 

“Kay. Standard zombie rules. Head and chest. You can hack off the limbs but they’ll keep coming at you as long as they can.” He looked at Noct in the eyes. “Electricity, if you can wrangle it. Fries the circuits on the weaponry.” 

“Why are you talking like you’re not coming with?” The prince deadpanned. “What’s your weapon of choice?” 

“I beg your pardon?” Ignis interrupted, pulling the car to a stop at the end of the dirt road. “Did you just suggest _arming_ him?” 

Noctis ignored him, still staring down Prompto in the rearview mirror. “Well?” 

With a sigh, he turned in the seat to face the prince. “Ranged,” he answered. “Firearms primarily. Pistols preferred, but all other kinds.” 

A simple handgun appeared in Noct’s grasp in the usual crystalline blue light of his… weapon magic, or whatever it was. He thrust his hand forward and Prompto gasped as it plunged into his chest. It felt like ice burning through his veins, and when he grasped his hand, the pistol appeared in his grip. “What?” 

“Noctis, are you _kidding_? You did _not_ just grant the sacred powers of the Lucian bloodline to the prince of the empire who is currently occupying your home!” Gladio snarled. 

“It’s my bloodline, I can give it to my husband if I like.” 

Prompto choked at his words, the pistol dropping from his fingers and disappearing in blue light. He felt something tug in his chest again. Noctis had just called him his husband. After the attack? After learning _what_ he was? 

“You’ll now have access to the communal pool of curatives and ammunition,” Ignis said. His voice was informational, but otherwise cold. He wasn’t happy about the prince’s choice, but he daren’t comment on it. “I find it beneficial to visualise the weapon as I grasp in the correct position to hold the weaponry.” 

Silent, Prompto imagined the gun Noctis had given him and gripped. The same tug in his chest, and the gun was a comforting weight in his grasp. He let go, made it vanish, and did the same a couple times. 

“It seems you’ve got the hang of it,” Ignis said. He sounded just that touch more irritable. He unbuckled his seatbelt and swung the door open. “Shall we?” 

They fought through the old ruins, taking out the MTs as they came across them. Prompto tried not to think of words like ‘treason’ and ‘treachery’ as he did so. They weren’t really human to begin with, and couldn’t be called _alive_ after they were mechanised. 

“You haven’t reloaded your pistol once,” Noctis panted, as they hid behind a wall. “But you keep tossing the ones you pick up from the… ground.” 

“Am I supposed to need to…? “ He held up the pistol. “Scientia said to visualise. I’ve just been picturing the bullets replacing the clip.” 

The prince looked at him in fascination, then vaulted around the corner, disappearing in crystal blue light. Warping, like it was a video game. Prompto went after him, taking out the snipers first. 

They came out at the hilltop, a crest overlooking Insomnia. Prompto vanished his weapon, let the three of them have their moment. He found a familiar antenna on the cliffside and climbed up to start fiddling with the switches. 

“I can’t see anything from here,” Noctis complained, something like desperation in his voice. “We need to find a way in.” 

Prompto jumped down, landing crouched beside him. He rose onto his feet. “None of you have got a phone call or a text since last night, have you?” 

Ignis frowned, then took out his phone to check. “...nothing since yesterday morning.” 

Prompto nodded. “They set up a signal jammer. Probably before the attack. So they can control the information about the attack.” He pointed up at the antenna. “I’ve sent a self-destruct code across the network. I can’t predict how long it will take the entire network to come back up. But the near radius should come back on soon.” 

As if to prove his words, Ignis and Gladio’s phones began to chime with incoming messages. Prompto headed over to one of the military radios set up and fiddled with the frequency until he heard a voice. 

“..the ceasefire between the two nations, all provisional terms have been suspended in light of recent developments. Moreover, in the wake of the news of King Regis’s death, we’ve now received word that Crown Prince Noctis and his recently wed husband have also been pronounced dead.” The voice fizzled out as the signals interfered. 

He heard a desperate conversation between Prince Noctis and someone named ‘Cor’. When the call ended, it was Ignis who spoke. “What did the marshal have to say?” 

“Said he’d be in Hammerhead.” His voice was low, emotionless. Numb. 

Gladiolus was more hesitant. “...and the King?” 

Noctis didn’t answer. He just stared at the smoke rising from his home. He couldn’t possibly comprehend that grief, felt like a selfish jerk for even trying to imagine. It wasn’t his place to look on, to feel for them. He was the one who had caused this. 

He turned back to the radio, tuning the dial again. They changed the frequencies daily and sent the new frequency encoded directly to the MT who was programmed to man the radios. 

He finally lucked upon the official broadcast. “...transportation of his Imperial Majesty is T-minus two hours to Zegnautus Keep along with his prisoner. Update on status of Wanted Persons: Noctis Lucis Caelum, last known location Galdin Quay: capture alive. Kill any who attempt to interfere with capture. MT Unit number 05953234, alias Prompto Aldercapt, alias Prompto Lucis Caelum, last known location Galdin Quay: kill on sight, remains destroyed.” 

He choked, hand dropping down to the ground beneath his knees. The sound of unit relocations was a buzz in his ear, the world narrowing down to his heartbeat in his chest, his breathing in his ears, the feel of the rope chafing around his wrists. 

He felt something touch his shoulder and lashed out at it, striking Gladio hard against his bicep. A sudden sting of pain across his cheek and the rush of movement of his head to the right snapped him out of the internalized state he was in. He rubbed his cheek idly and got onto his feet, feeling the pins and needles as the blood rushed back into them. 

“Do you need a moment, highness?” That was Ignis’s voice. Calm, almost sounding concerned. Well, panic attacks always did warp his senses in the strangest ways. 

“I’m ready.” He announced. He summoned the pistol and offered it out to the Shield. He preferred the execution to be quick after all. 

Gladio gave him an unreadable look and pressed the gun back into his chest with a rough push. “You’d better keep it on you. We’re headed to Hammerhead, but who knows what we’ll face after we get there.” 

He didn’t remember the walk back to the car, or much of the drive. He blinked his eyes open, and they were on the watery road of the Leide desert. 

“...a message from my sister,” Gladiolus was saying, his voice rough but relieved. “She’s with refugees, bound for Lestallum.” 

Prompto stirred. His hands were free this time. That was strange. “How many got out?” He asked. His voice sounded hazy even to him. 

There was an awkward pause. “We’ll know more once we’ve spoken to the marshal. But the prospect is not a hopeful one.” Ignis answered carefully. 

“What about the orphanage?” He murmured, rolling his head to look at the driver. “The children…?” 

An awkward pause. “No word.” That meant no. He closed his eyes again and rested his head back against the seat. 

“You cannot return to the past,” Prompto murmured. “Time only goes forward.” But there were tears in his eyes and he tried to ignore them. 

“Once you set forth, you cannot turn back.” There was something pensieve in the prince’s tone, like he was reciting something he was once told. 

An uncomfortable moment stretched following their words. Then the advisor cleared his throat. “We’d best press on to Hammerhead,” he said, pressing his foot down onto the accelerator further. “Noctis won’t stay dead forever.” 

“He’s not dead now,” Prompto muttered. “The order is to capture him alive.” 

“We heard.” Gladio grunted. 

“But so long as the public believes him dead, any imperial supporters won’t report his movements. We’re as untraceable as we can be at this very moment.” 

Prompto hummed and rolled his head back to look out the window. 

Their voices sounded distant again. “I still think we should give him smelling salts.” That was Noctis. 

“You can’t give someone smelling salts for shock, Noctis.” That was…. Gladiolus. “Smelling salts are for toxin-inflicted confusion. You can’t use curatives to recover from psychological distress.” 

“What can we _do_?” Noctis again. 

“We wait, highness. When he stirs out of it, you’ll do what you can to comfort him.” 

Who on earth were they talking about anyway. He closed his eyes to sleep, let himself drift off. 


	9. Nine

Prompto woke up somewhere cramped and uncomfortable. His first thought was he was in a prison cell. That wouldn’t have surprised him. 

But someone had taken his boots and his vest off, but left him in his clothes. There was a blanket pulled up over him that, though scratchy, was warm. The night air beyond it was cold, but there was something warm along his side. 

He knew there was something happening. Something he really should remember, but something he really didn’t want to. He felt like going right back to sleep. 

He made himself open his eyes. They appeared to be inside a caravan. The Shield was sat across the way, glaring towards the door. The advisor’s coat was hung over the rung of the bunk above them. Which meant the warmth by his side was… 

He turned his head, and saw Noct beside him. No, Prince Noctis. Noct was his friend, his husband. But their marriage was as ruined as the ceasefire it had been done for. And he’d lost all of their trust. They knew he was a creature now. That even his own kin wanted him dead. 

He curled away from him, the self-loathing he’d been trying to keep at bay washing over him again. He sniffled - couldn’t help it - but allowed himself once before he would make himself stop crying. 

“Hey.” That was the Shield. He rolled his head to look at him. “It’s late. You should go back to sleep.” 

Prompto didn’t answer directly. “Where are we?” 

“Hammerhead. The Caravan.” 

He nodded weakly and started to sit up. “Did you guys talk to, uh, what’s his name? Marshall?” 

“Marshal is his rank. But no. We just missed him.” Gladiolus folded his arms over his chest. “We’ll go see him tomorrow. Assuming he’s where he says he’ll be.” 

“What about me?” Prompto asked quietly. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer. 

“What?” The single word was short, rough and bitten out. 

“I mean, what’s the plan for me?” He answered. “What are you going to do?” 

The shield flexed his biceps and a muscle ticked in his jaw. “You’ll have to talk to his royal highness about that,” he said coolly. He jerked his head towards the still sleeping Prince Noctis in clarification. “Get some rest. We’re leaving as soon as he’s up and at it.” 

He sighed and nodded. He closed his eyes and pretended to sleep, listening to Gladiolus across the room. 

About an hour or so later, he stood and went to the bunk, lightly shaking Scientia. “Hey. It’s your shift on watch.” 

“I’m awake,” the accented voice answered. The bed above him moved slightly, as if the advisor was careful not to wake them up. 

“Did you get any sleep?” The Shield asked, resigned. 

“A few winks.” He slid down the ladder, put his jacket on. “I haven’t heard from my uncle. I’m trying to resign myself to the worst, but…” 

There was a shift of movement Prompto couldn’t understand. When he cracked one eye open to spy, Gladiolus had him wrapped in a tight embrace. He murmured to him quietly, too low for Prompto to overhear. He squeezed his eye closed again, trying to give them back the privacy he had stolen. 

After a moment, the two of them headed out the door. With a sigh, Prompto rolled onto his side. He found himself face-to-face with Noct. That was, Prince Noctis. He had to stop allowing himself to be so familiar with the prince, even in his own head. He watched him slumber for a long moment, trying to will himself not to feel so fond of the features in front of him. To not let his heart race when he remembered their times together. 

It wasn’t a very productive attempt, but he would take it hour by hour. Unmake himself. 

“I can’t sleep with you staring.” 

He jolted, but didn’t get far as the prince’s hand held his hip in place in a quick movement. “I’m sorry, highness. I didn’t…” 

“Stop,” he murmured. “Just… stop with the ‘highness’ crap, Prom.” He opened his eyes, and they were deeply sad. “Haven’t I lost enough without you taking this away too?” 

He didn’t really know what to say to that. He shifted. “Why don’t you hate me?” He asked, his voice thick with grip. “Because of me, the Empire invaded your home. Killed your father, kidnapped your mother -” 

“Step-mother.” 

“Not the point,” Prompto said tiredly. “I’m a lab experiment, traitor to both of our kingdoms. I’m not even human. Our marriage was just a sham to cover up an invasion from the inside out. Why aren’t you _angry_?” 

“I’m not angry at you,” Noct answered, reaching up to touch his face, thumb brushing over the made-up skin above his favourite constellation of freckles. “You didn’t know about the attack. I could see it in your face. I can still see it in your eyes.” 

“I made you trust me, when you should have been wary. If you all hadn’t trusted me, you would’ve noticed that your phones weren’t working. You would’ve figured out something was wrong. You could’ve…” 

“Run back to the city and got ourselves killed as well?” The prince finished, his voice so very _tired_. “Cid said some things - that’s the mechanic, Cindy’s grandfather. He was a friend of my father’s, when they were my age. He…” He shivered a little, and Prompto couldn’t help from pulling him closer to offer him the meagrest bit of comfort. “He reminded me that my father wasn’t a fool. He would’ve seen through all of this a mile away. Cid said… that my dad had been dealt a losing hand, but he played the card as best as he could.” The finger brushed across his chin again. “My father sent me away so I would be protected. So that Lucis didn’t lose _everything_ in the invasion. It’s up to me now, to take back my kingdom.” 

Prompto nodded. There was some tangled mix of disappointment and relief and pride in his chest. Disappointment that Noctis was about to throw himself back into danger instead of trying to find somewhere safe for himself. Relief that, somehow, Noctis didn’t hate him for his part in the plan. And pride, in this gorgeous, good man who was going to do what was right for his people and take back his kingdom.” 

“And what about me?” He asked quietly, almost reluctant. 

“Hm?” 

“What are you planning on doing with me, now that you know the truth? Your Shield didn’t seem to know.” 

Noct pulled back a little to look him carefully in the face. “You told me once, that you believed in the United Solheim. All of the nations as one, peacefully working together for the benefit of everyone. Do you still believe in that?” 

He shook at the thought. “I do,” he whispered. “But I know now that it can never happen under the Empire. Not now I’ve seen what they can do, what they have done and what they will done for their lust of power.” 

Noct stroked his thumb across his freckles again. “Once this is over, I say we break down our borders. Come together as one nation. Rule with peace, not fear.” He looked at him seriously. “I’m going to make this world a better place. And I want you beside me when I do.” Carefully, slowly, in case Prompto tried to stop him, he leaned in to press their lips together in a gentle kiss. “So, what do you say? Are you with me?” 

“Uh-huh,” he said, choked. “Ever at your side.” 


	10. Ten

“My dear boy! There you are!” 

Prompto looked up. “Uncle Ardyn?” He asked dubiously. He felt a little burst of joy when Gladio stepped in front of him protectively. It had taken a lot, of them running around collecting royal arms and doing hunts, for the Shield to think he was something worth protecting. 

The man shouldered past and wrapped Prompto firmly up in his arms. “I’ve been so worried about you!” he said anxiously. “I didn’t believe the reports when they said you were dead, but I was determined to find you. Make sure you were safe.” 

He hugged back tight against his uncle. “I never thought… I only…” He pulled back slightly. “The orders are to kill on sight. I didn’t know how to get in contact with anyone without…” 

“I thought that may be the case,” Ardyn said, pulling away from him. “I’ve tried to convince his imperial majesty to reduce the order to subdue and capture…” 

Prompto wanted to believe him. He really did. But there was just some part of him that felt there was _something_ about Ardyn’s tone of voice that set his danger sense on edge. He stepped away, back beside Gladio. 

“My boy… I wish to protect you. Would you come with me?” 

“Prom…” Noct’s hand reached out towards him, grasping his wrist. 

“No,” he said firmly, gently moving his hand down so their fingers were interlocked. “I’m staying with Noct. With Prince Noctis.” 

Ardyn looked between them and smiled. “I see you’ve found something to bond over. Congratulations my boy.” He rested his hand on his head. “I will respect your decision. If you ever have need of me, you need only ask.” 

“Actually,” Noct said. “Can you get us past an imperial blockade…?” 

*** 

Prompto rushed to Lunafreya’s side, thanking all six of the gods as he saw the slight rise and fall of her chest. He smashed a bottle of elixir over her stomach, watched the wound left behind knit back together. Who would have attacked The Oracle? 

Her body, easing from its pain-filled seize, relaxed - and a metallic bounce sounded as her fist unclenched. Was that… the Ring of the Lucii? How did _she_ get ahold of that? 

Noct was still above the bay, using some fancy light show to fight the Leviathan. He heard the engines of an imperial airship and hurriedly scrabbled up the Ring into his pocket. Whatever was going on, he knew his father wanted it, and he couldn’t let anyone of the Empire get ahold of it. 

“Oh, Prompto, my dear boy!” Arms were clutching around him, the cloying scent of his uncle’s after shaving wafting over him. “Thank Solheim you are alright!” 

“Uncle Ardyn?” He asked, confused. “How are you here…?” 

“I heard the king of Lucis would be coming here and stirring up trouble, so I knew I had to come and ensure you were safe.” 

He pulled back from him slightly. “I can take care of myself,” he said. “And I’m here for Noct.” 

“And I’m here for you,” he insisted. “Come into my ship. I’ll take you somewhere safe until the battle is won.” 

“Won by whom?” He asked, summoning his gun behind his back. “Because there’s something that Aranea said, when you had her take us through the dungeons. Something that’s stuck with me.” 

“Oh?” Ardyn said with a slight smile. “And what is that?” 

“ _Ardyn always ends up on top_ ,” Prompto said, raising his gun and levelling it at him. “I’m just part of your back up plan, aren’t I?” He demanded. “You’ve _never_ cared about me!” 

The Imperial Chancellor laughed. “You’re only half right,” he answered, his voice now cool and emotionless. “I have never cared about you indeed. But you are a fool to believe any of my plans rely on you.” He spread his arms wide, and weapons like Noct’s royal arms, but bloody red light instead of blue, surrounded his back. “And since you’re nothing but a nuisance, I will kill you and leave you here to be swept away by the tide like your darling’s beloved bride.” 

The weapons swarmed in his direction and he rolled out of the way, nearly tumbling into the turbulent sea in his effort to escape. They gathered again and Prompto fired a few bullets at the chancellor. They seemed to hit a rippling forcefield surrounding him, and the chancellor laughed. 

“You think you can defeat me with your pathetic, mortal weapons?” He strode forward, ignoring the bullets as if they were a slight breeze. He grabbed the muzzle of the gun and lifted Prompto up by it until his feet were dangling an inch above the ground. “You’ve never been anything but a weapon, a tool with which to use in my machinations against the bloodline of the Lucii.” 

Prompto’s grip on the gun gave and he thumped painfully onto the cobblestones of the platform. He cried out at the jarring, even more when he felt something hard dig into his hip. 

“Now keep still, puppet prince,” he said, summoning the wave of weapons again. “Die with a little bit of dignity intact.” 

He reached into his pants. “What have I got in my pocket?” He mumbled. 

“Riddles In The Dark?” Ardyn asked, lip curling into a smirk. “Let me guess… the one ring?” 

Prompto drew it out, and held the Ring of the Lucii. “Close.” 

Ardyn laughed boisterously. “And what do you expect to do with that? Only the Lucian Kings can use the Ring. A monster’s creation would be destroyed.” 

He held his finger up and put the ring just before his tip. “I am not your puppet prince,” he declared. And then, despite the magnetic force resisting, he shoved the ring onto his wedding band finger. 

All he knew was burning, indescribable pain - and Ardyn’s laughter in his ears. Overlayed on his view of the bay was giant, ghostly glowing figures of...were they the Lucian kings? 

Breathing hard against the pain, he yelled as if he could Fus Do Rah it away. For a moment, the pain vanished, and he got up to his hands and knees. 

“My name,” he said laboriously, “is Prompto Lucis Caelum.” Straining against the heavy gravity, the burning pain in his limbs, he raised one knee to set his foot down, raising himself a little higher. “I am wed to Noctis, the one hundred and fourteenth in an unbroken line of Lucii Kings.” He raised his hand, the one with the ring burning away his flesh. “King Regis, the One Hundred and Thirteenth King of Lucis fastened our hands together in matrimony.” He slid his leg forward so he was balanced on both feet, crouching against the gravity. “What’s his is mine, what’s mine is his. We will be emperor and king of Solheim. I will serve beside him as prince-consort of Lucis.” He stood firmly, staring down the eyes of the closest phantom king. “I am a King of Lucis, and you **will** give me your power!” 

The overlay seemed to shatter, and instead of burning him up, the air seemed to crackle around him. He stared down Ardyn, who seemed awed and terrified at the sight of him. “I will not let you hurt him.” 

Ardyn smirked. “Is that so?” He summoned his wave of weapons. “Just try and stop me.” 

The fight was quick, Prompto fighting back with weapons from the Lucii line. He quickly had his uncle pinned against a nearby wall, and brandished a crossbow to his face. 

And then Ardyn laughed. “Well well Well. Not so empty after all.” He grinned. With a harsh shove, he sent Prompto flying backwards - the ring slipping off his finger and bouncing away. “I won’t underestimate you again. I see now I made a mistake bringing you together. I won’t next time.” 

He seemed to vanish in a gust of black smoke - and Prompto slumped against the ground. He felt all his energy draining away - and as his eyes fluttered closed, he saw Noctis floating towards the ground gently. 

*** 

He woke up in a soft bed but the smell in his nose was medicinal. He felt a warm hand in his own, and gently squeezed it. He opened his eyes and saw the top of a luxurious bed canopy - the likes he hadn’t seen since leaving Insomnia. 

“Hey… you awake?” 

He shifted his head - it felt strange against the pillows - and smiled at Noct. “Hey there,” he said. 

“Hey… you worried me.” The prince climbed into the bed with him, tucking close to his side. “What happened while I was fighting the Leviathan?” 

He tried to drag his thoughts back. “I don’t remember,” he mumbled. “We were getting the civilians out… and I stole a sky bike to get you up close and personal with the goddess… and then I saw Lady Lunafreya was hurt, so I went to go heal her…” He shook his head. Something about that felt weird. “I don’t remember. Is she okay?” 

“She’s fine,” Noct said quietly, “Ravus took her back to Tennebrae to recuperate. She’s going to meet us in Niflheim.” 

“There’s no other option then? We have to go?” He asked quietly. 

Noct nodded. “Yeah. You’ll come with me?” 

“Of course,” he said. “Ever by your side, remember?” Noct leaned in to kiss him. “Don’t know how we’re going to smuggle me in without getting recognised, but…” 

“About that.” He reached up to run a hand over Prompto’s head. But instead of gently moving his straightened hair about, his fingers stroked across his head with only the lightest fuzz between his skull and Noct’s fingers. “It burned up. You’ll be rocking the buzz for a while until it grows in.” 

He groaned, leaning back to nuzzle into his hand a little. “Great. I never could pull off a buzzcut, and I tried all through high school.” 

Noct chuckled and kissed him again. “I think you look cute.” 

He snorted. “You always think I’m cute.” 

The prince smiled. “Yeah. Yeah I do.” He sat up. “Come on. We better tell the guys you woke up…” 


	11. Eleven

Prompto stretched, coming out of the sleeping cars of the train. He’d recognised the shifting landscape through the window, and knew what was coming. He passed Ignis and Gladio, nodding to them both with a smile, heading towards the seats. 

Noct was sitting alone in a booth, looking down at his hand. Prompto stopped by him. “Hey,” he said gently. 

“Hey,” the prince said, shoving his hand in his pocket. “What’s up?” 

“Nothing serious,” he said gently, leaning near his shoulder. “Just wanted to share the sights.” 

“Hm?” 

Prompto pointed out the window, to the divide between the heat of the desert and the ice of the Ice Giantess’s grave. 

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Noct said, his voice soft and awed. “It doesn’t make any sense.” He looked around and then stood up abruptly, something agitated in his body posture. “What’s going on?” 

Was he that spooked by the weather change? “It’s the Ice Giantess,” he explained. “Where her icy death wind blows, still. Decades after her slaughter.” 

Noct suddenly whirled on him, fist flying. “ _You!_ How **dare** you!” 

“Whoa!” He said, dodging the blow. “What’s going on? Easy there…” 

Instead of relaxing, Noct swung a sword at him. “Shut up!” 

He jumped back to avoid the blade, conscious of the passengers turning to look at them with frightful eyes. “Are you for real?” 

Apparently he was - he kept advancing forward with his vicious snarl on his face. Prompto did the only thing he could think of to keep the other passengers out of this. He turned tail and ran - bolting out of the seating carriages and back into the sleepers. Noct was in hot pursuit, but he turned to shove a door open and snarl: “show yourself!” 

What was he…? “Uh…” Hesitantly, he approached. “Noct?” 

In answer, he got another fist flying toward his face. He backed away, listening to Noct curse him out. 

What was going on? What had he done? As the prince came after him again, murder in his eyes, he panted. “Come on, Noct. You’re scaring me.” Noct charged towards him with an aggressive snarl. “Seriously? Cut it out!” 

He ducked into the next car, where the people made startled noises and began backing into the booths. They were _afraid_ of Noct. 

“This isn’t safe! And you’re causing a scene! You could hurt someone!” 

“I’ll hurt you!” He summoned another sword and sliced across Prompto’s middle - he barely ducked under the blade in time. 

“Are you seriously trying to kill me?” He yelled, panicked. They hit the second-last car of the train and he panted, leaning against the wall. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Noct demanded. “I’ve got you now!” 

Weakly, he raised up one hand for defence. “Noct, please…” 

“What are you after, following me around all the time?” The Prince demanded harshly. One elbow ground into his neck, pushing him up against the door. His toes scrabbled on the floor for purchase. “It’s _all your fault_ !” 

He tried to press back against the door, take enough breath to speak. “What are you talking about?” 

“Did you think Luna wouldn’t tell me? About your part in the attack, all the innocent people killed because of **you**?” 

He choked on a sob, pulling at his sleeve weakly. “Noct…” He gasped. “I thought you already knew all that. Why are you attacking me now?” 

“You’re a murderer!” Noct snarled furiously, summoning a sword to press against his chest. “Those _kids_ …” 

He felt numbness through his limbs, at the words. Which attack had he meant? Had something else happened in Fennestala? “Do you really mean that?” He whispered. 

“Of course I do!” He snarled. The tip of the sword pressed in to his sternum. “You can’t talk your way out of this!” 

“You won’t even let me!” Prompto said, eyes welling with tears. “Noct, please. Can’t we talk about this? Let me explain…” 

“Never!” He drew the sword back to get a better swing - the train shuddered violently and his aim slipped. Prompto cried out as he felt the blade slice past his ribs. 

The prince was thrown to the floor, Prompto couldn’t risk stopping. He ducked through the door in a panic, holding a hand tight to his side to staunch the bleeding. But he couldn’t stop himself from turning back, to look, to check Noct was okay. 

Ardyn stepped into the doorway, grinning at him as the door slid closed. “Who’s telling riddles in the dark now, Empty?” 

The door sealed up, sticky black ichor crawling up the door. “Ardyn!” 

Gods, what was he doing? How had he made Noct turn on him? He shot at the door, but nothing happened. He cursed and stumbled away. 

He dug out his cellphone and pressed it to his ear. Noct’s rang out, but Ignis answered in two rings. “Something’s wrong!” He yelled over the sound of the engines. “Noct is-” 

There was an explosion, and he swore, dazed as his side smacked against an armrest. 

“Highness?” 

“He’s- Ardyn is on the train. He’s done something to Noct… did the train stop?!” 

“Imperial MTs are attacking the train,” Gladio’s voice was slightly distant. 

“I have to… We need to protect the people, but-” He grunted in pain. “I have to get to Noct.” 

“I’ll get the train moving again,” Ignis said seriously, his voice calm and decisive. “Gladio will clear the passengers from the damaged cars, herd them to the front few cars. Prompto?” 

“Hngh?” He asked, opening an emergency first aid kit and grabbing out bandages. 

“You sound injured. Do you need back-up?” 

“I can manage.” He wrapped his ribs up tightly. “Don’t worry about me, just get on with it.” 

“Stay safe, Prompto. We’ll see you soon.” 

The train was running again by the time he got up on the roof. The wind buffeted him around, aided by the occasional explosions of the airships above them. 

Ardyn was grinning at him in the middle of the train car roof. He stumbled over, summoning his gun in one hand. “Ardyn!” He snarled. 

“Prompto,” the man said calmly. “Here we are again!” 

Again? He steadied the gun, aiming it at him. “What are you doing?” He demanded. “What have you done to Noct?” 

Ardyn grinned, holding his hands up as if in surrender. “Why, whatever do you mean?” 

A familiar sound - Noct’s warping - and then his voice, frantic and protective. “Prompto!” 

He relaxed. Noct was back. And then the blunt edge of a sword was slamming the gun out of his hand, and it clattered to the roof of the train. “Huh-?” The blade swung at him again, and he realised his mistake. 

It wasn’t Ardyn he was after. It was still him. He was hardly aware of the fall, only the wind rushing past his ears - and then the pain of landing. He watched Noctis disappear, the train speeding away as fast as the engines could take it. 

Giving a bitter laugh, he closed his eyes and let darkness swallow him up. 

*** 

He found - or rather, Aranea found him in the mountains near the First MagitTek Production facility. 

“You could at least look happy to see me,” she complained, wincing as she lifted away the mess of bandages from his ribs. 

“Not entirely sure if you’re going to kill me,” he replied, voice flat. “How much is the hit on my head now?” 

“Hundred thou,” she answered easily. 

He laughed. “You don’t even get out of bed for less than five,” he said. 

“Mhm.” She crushed a potion over his ribs, “you should’ve taken care of this earlier, kid.” 

“Had other things on my mind,” he replied, taking the bandages from her and dumping them in the pot of boiling water over the campfire. 

“I ran into your buddies in Tennebrae,” she continued, raising her eyebrows at him. “You got ‘em worried sick.” 

“Maybe they should’ve thought about that before they left me bloody and unconscious on the railway tracks for the MTs,” he muttered. He stirred the bandages around with a long stick. 

She scoffed at him. “You spent all that time driving around with them and you still don’t know what kind of guys they are.” She folded her arms. “Your royal husband was begging them to turn the train back around to find you. Glasses was the only one who could talk him down - told him, rather accurately, that you wouldn’t be there any more.” She inspected her nails, affecting boredom. “He wouldn’t calm down until I agreed to track you down and make sure you were safe.” 

“...right,” he said. He tried to batten down the hopeful feeling in his chest. 

“He was so worried about you he could hardly speak,” she continued. 

“He hardly speaks anyway.” He lifted out the clean bandages and hung them over the cooking frame to dry. She just stared at him hard until he spoke again. “They heading to Gralea?” 

“Mhm,” she replied. “You gonna meet them there?” 

He gave her a tired smirk. “A royal guest and his entourage coming to my city without me there to greet them? What kind of ruler would I be then?” 

She gave him an approving nod. “That’s the spirit. You want a lift there?” 

“Nah,” he deadpanned. “I’m gonna ride a snowmobile there and leave myself exposed for capture again.” 

She cuffed him around the head with a smile. “We’ll get your ribs wrapped back up and then we’ll go.” 

*** 

Things were awkward. They _felt_ awkward. He was sitting on the bottom bunk in one of the barracks of Zegnautus Keep. He was still bruised and broken from his captivity at the hands of the man he’d once called Uncle. Noct was sitting on the other side of the mattress, facing the other way, painfully silent. 

“...so when I was chasing Ardyn through the train, that was you?” He asked, his voice strictly controlled. 

“Uh-huh. Made a huge scene, scared all the civvies,” he answered, looking down at the scuffed edge of his boots. 

“I shouldn’t have fallen for it,” the prince muttered, his voice dark with self-loathing. “He was talking like you - but it sounded like his voice. I should’ve known.” 

He ducked his head down, remembered the face Ardyn had worn to ensnare him in a trap as soon as he arrived in Gralea. “Nah. It’s okay. You’re not the only one who fell for it.” 

“But I _hurt you_ ,” Noct insisted. “Iggy said you were injured, when he spoke to you on the phone.” 

He shrugged, even though his muscles screamed with the movement. “You nicked my ribs. I forgot about it, so should you.” He’d been through so much more pain since then. “Thank you, for sending Aranea after me.” 

“Thank you for coming back.” 

Another tense silence split between them. “All those things I said to him on the train. Don’t… don’t take them to heart. I wasn’t saying them to you. I was talking about Insomnia.” 

“Noct,” he said, gentle, letting the affectionate nickname pass from his lips. “It’s okay. Try to forget about it. I have.” 

He took a deep breath, and Prompto stood, muscles protesting. He turned to look at him, leaning on the frame of the top bunk. “So… you’re rocking the Ring now?” 

Noct lifted up his hand to the light. The skin around it already seemed aged. “Yeah.” 

“About time.” He gave him a soft smile, trying to make sure he knew it was teasing. “Once we take care of what’s left of Iedolas Aldercapt, I’m going to be Emperor. And I need a king by my side.” 

Noct turned to look at him, something desperate in his gaze. “We’re still in this together, then?” 

He leaned down, though his back screamed in protest, to kiss Noct right on the corner of his mouth. “You worry about getting your crystal back first, Noct. Gotta save the world before we can reunite it, huh?” 

Noct lifted up a shaky hand, thumb tracing the constellation of freckles across his chin. Archaeon’s Belt. “I love you.” 

A shaky breath caught in Prompto’s lungs, and he almost wanted to beat the words back. “Noct…” 

“You said it before. Now it’s my turn.” He gently tugged him down onto the bed, shifting so Prompto was lying over him. “Our kingdoms can wait another hour. Right now, I want to be with you.” 


	12. Finale

Noct scratched his fingers through Umbria's fur - the dog still unchanged after the apparent _ten years_ of his absence. Ten years. He felt sick just from the thought of it. 

Talcott - almost grown up Talcott! - was talking about their friends. Cid was in Lestallum, Cidney was around Hammerhead which had become some sort of Hunter HQ against the demons. Iris the Demon Slayer, kicking ass and bending Cor the Immortal to her command. Gladio and Iggy, the country's best hunter duo, rarely if ever seen apart. Dave, Dino, Sania, Vyv, half a dozen kingsglaives - but one name was conspicuously absent. He was too afraid to ask about his husband, Prompto. 

They pulled into the gated compound that was the eternally lit Hammerhead - and as he eased himself out of the car, his guys came up. Gladio pulled him into a tight, muscular hug, and Ignis clasped his hand in a gesture that somehow conveyed more emotion than Gladio's full-body attack. They looked older, Gladio had grown his hair out so it pulled back into a tail, and Ignis had grown his out enough to swoop it back into a pompadour. They stood closer to each other than ever before, moving and breathing in sync. But Gladio was talking about his escapades, that there was no woman he was marriage-serious about, and while Ignis treated his lack of commitment with the usual playful derision, he was the usual conspicuously silent about _his_ personal relationships. 

And then Noct dared to ask the question that had been haunting him since Talcott's silence. "What about Prom? Did he… make it out?" 

Ignis clasped his shoulder. "His Imperial Majesty," he commented. "Since your disappearance he's been busy with the recovery of his territories. He's been instrumental in the refugee efforts, and keeping order amongst the chaos of ten years of unceasing darkness." 

"Oh." He couldn't help a burst of pride for his husband, a little reassurance. His Prompto would be fine. "Is he…?" 

"We called him as soon as we hung up from Talcott," Gladio explained. "He'll be here as quick as he can, coming from New Gralea." 

"Can we…" He trailed off. "I want to see him before we go to Insomnia." Wanted to see his husband at least one more time. 

"Of course," Ignis said firmly. "We would've dream otherwise." 

Sleep had never been hard for Noct before. But that night - Iggy assured him it was night - he couldn't sleep no matter what he tried. Every noise snapped him back to full awareness. The voices of people, the sounds of engines, the grind of sharpening weaponry, the primal screams of the daemons. 

When Ignis got up, so did he. He even helped chop and stir for the huge buffet of food his advisor made for the gathered Hunters. He trained with Gladio, made sure their skills were still sharp - spoke with Iris about what territories were lost, where they held the lines, and which places were considered safe havens. 

A part of him deep inside settled. Once he banished the Scourge, his kingdom and his people would be fine. Whoever they chose to raise in his place - (Gladio seemed a likely option, his family was as old and respected as Noct's) - they had the people at ready to rebuild. 

He kept eyeing the roads, desperate to spot the incoming headlights that would signal the long-awaited arrival. And then, when he told himself it would have to be tomorrow instead, the wind began to pick up. 

"Noct," Gladio called, jogging up to his seat. "He's here." Confused, but brimming with joy, Noct followed his Shield. 

Across the outpost, a familiar red airship was descending. The wind died down as the engines powered off. He held his breath as the hatch opened and the ramp descended. 

Some part of him had been nervous he wouldn't recognise the Emperor as _his_ Prompto. But as soon as he saw him, the fear evaporated. 

Gladio strode forward, crossing their fists and bumping their shoulders together. "There's my Chocobutt Prince!" he declared, and ruffled the plume of blond hair atop his head. 

"That's Chocobutt _Emperor_ ," the same sweet, playful voice corrected, as a hand rose to readjust the locks. "Will you _ever_ get it right?" 

"Nah." Gladio thumped his back and stood aside. 

Prompto turned to receive Iggy's bow next, and Noct caught the profile of his face. Without the sun, freckles had faded - but there were a few spots here or there that must've been permanent marks. In exchange for the bow, Prompto pulled him into a hug, muttering: "always so formal!" 

Once they parted, the Emperor turned to the gathering crowd and bowed his head in greeting. Noct was surprised to see them give him the loyal bow usually reserved for the Lucii Kings: one fist pressed over their heart, head turned down solemnly, bent at the waist. They had accepted Prompto in his absence - really, properly accepted him. 

"Biggs, Wedge," Prompto spoke, turning to the people still standing on the ramp of the airship, "unload the Hammerhead supplies, then we'll head to Lestallum with the public rations." He turned back to Iggy. "It's not the usual amount," he explained, his voice genuinely apologetic, "some crops weren't ready to harvest yet, but I had everything we could spare so soon gathered." He ran a hand through his hair. "What happened, daemons take a warehouse? You didn't say _why_ I had to get here urgently in your voicemail." 

"The Niflheim supplies are always a blessing, Majesty," Ignis replied. "But you must take back what your people need. This was not an emergency of sustenance." 

"Then what's going on? You lose a shipment of armaments? That'll take longer, and I'll need able men to volunteer if we're going to operate the mines in the off-season again." 

"No, our supplies are _fine_ ," Gladio interrupted, amused. "We don't only call you when we want stuff." 

"Since _when_?" Prompto teased. 

Gladio just rolled his eyes, bodily picked him up, and turned him around so he was _finally_ facing Noct. 

It felt like the rest of the world vanished, and the only two people in their entire plane of existence wer Noctis and Prompto. His heart began to thump again as Prompto started slow, almost thoughtless steps forward, closing the distance between them. He couldn't _move_ , could only watch his sunlight come back into his life. 

And just as he had come close enough to touch, he suddenly dropped. He knelt on one knee, fist pressed against his chest over his heart, head bowed reverently. "My king," he spoke, solemn as a vow. 

Noct crouched, despite the pain it fired through his knee, to reach his level. He placed two fingers under his chin and turned his face upwards until watery eyes met his. "You ought never bow to me, my emperor." He gently guided them both back up to their feet and once they were stood, yanked him into a frantic kiss. 

The world was back when they parted. Dazed, Prompto called: "Chancellor Highwind?" 

"Your Imperial Majesty?" She replied, sounding more amused than anything else. 

"I name you Acting Regent of Niflheim and her territories." One hand drifted down to squeeze Noct's wrist. "I've gotta go help my husband save the world." 

  
***

Prompto stood on the ground, Ignis and Gladiolus flanked his sides. They three of them stood, looking up at Noct a few steps up the lon flight of stairs to the citadel entrance. His fancy raiment had been destroyed or broken or something, he stood in the black suit underneath, surprisingly neat and tidy. 

He looked at them, his expression calm despite what he was walking to. But he had said it, last night around the campfire: " _I've made my peace_." 

"So," Ignis said, with an equal calm. "This is farewell." 

"Yeah," Noct replied. "Here we are." 

Gladio shuffled about on his feet, but straightened his posture and looking up at their king. "It's all you." 

Noct gave a solemn nod, and turned his back on them to begin his ascent. His ascension. 

Prompto took a deep breath. "You cannot return to the past," he murmured. "Time only moves forward." 

Noct came to a stop, as if hearing him. He turned back to them, some emotion he was trying to repress in his face. "Ignis… Gladio…" He murmured, looking between the two of them. Then his eyes landed on Prompto - and there was regret in his gaze. "Prompto." 

He met his gaze evenly and gave him a steady nod. "Noct." 

"I leave it to you." He gave them all a serious look. "Walk tall, my friends." 

"Godspeed," Ignis murmured. "And… take care." 

Ignis and Gladio gave Noct the Insomnian bow - one hand pressed over their hearts. Noct mirrored the gesture, his fist pressed across his chest, the ring of the Lucii facing towards them. 

"The time has come," he said, his voice steady, and resolved. He turned to meet Prompto's eyes, and there was unexpressed emotion. 

Prompto stepped forward, up the half-dozen steps separating them. He pressed their lips together, slipping his arms around his king. He felt the grip returned, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Their kiss lingered, but when they parted they kept their faces close together for a moment. 

"Take care of them, Prompto." 

"Of course." After a deep breath, he took a another kiss that turned into another, and another. 

Noct reluctantly pulled away, stroking his thumb across his lower lip. "Watch the sunrise for me. I never did take the time." 

He leaned into his hand and gave Noct a tired smile. "Go on then, my king. Go save the world." 

Noct took a deep breath and turned away, walking slowly but steadily up the stairs. 

Prompto watched him until the doors closed behind him. He turned to Ignis and Gladio, giving them a smile. "I think that's long enough to wait for him to think we're not going after him, don't you?" 

(...)

Noctis Lucis Caelum, the One-Hundred-and-Fourteenth King of Lucis, sat upon the throne and let the kings pierce him with his ancestral weapons. The Sword of the wise, the first he had collected. He could feel it lodge inside his chest and stick there. The Axe of the conqueror, that hurt even more as it lodged next to the next one. He took a deep breath, raising his eyes to the ceiling as he prepared for the next. The bow of the clever. He hadn't used it much, ranged weaponry was more Prompto's style than his. 

As if summoned by his thoughts, he heard a painfully familiar grunt of pain. He dropped his eyes to the room around him and saw Prompto standing before him. He was stood firm, and confident, but the dispersing light and mist told Noct exactly what had happened. 

"Prompto, _what_?" He hissed. " **Stop**!" He commanded to the Kings of Yore. They pause in their line, waiting. 

Prompto turned to give him a slight grin. He made his way back to the dias and sunk into the smaller, queen's throne to the left of his own. "Hey, Noct," he greeted. "I don't know why I didn't expect that to hurt," he mumbled, rubbing his chest. "Ow, why does it still feel like it's in there." 

"It _is_." Noct said, voice laboured. "Prompto, you can't be here." 

Prompto placed his hand over Noct's, stroking his thumb over the glowing, sparking ring. "I'm your husband," he said. "You didn't think I'd let you go through this alone, did you?" 

"Prom…" He said softly. He lifted their joined hands and kissed their intertwined hands. "I can't ask you to do this." 

"You needn't ask." 

That was Iggy's voice. He turned to look, and saw Ignis and Gladio climbing up one side of the stairs too. 

"We swore to protect you, Noct," Gladio continued, his voice stern. 

"We've never left you alone before now," Ignis said, coming to stand beside Noct's throne. "Why on Eos would we begin now?" 

The sound of more footsteps came up the other stairs, and he turned his head to see Ravus and Luna coming up the second flight of stairs. She smiled. "It is the destiny of the oracle to aid the Chosen One to fulfil the prophecy of the True King," she said grandly, her voice filling the room. "I, too, shall stand by your side in this final task." 

Ravus bowed his agreement to her statement and stood firm to face the ghostly kings. "The blood price must be paid," he announced. "I will contribute to the blood price." 

Lunafreya rose her head to stare them down too. "I will contribute to the blood price." 

Ignis pressed a hand to his chest. "I will contribute to the blood price." 

Gladio boldly stated the same phrase - and Prompto took Noct's hand and met only his eyes as he agreed, too, to contribute to the blood price. 

Noct took a shaky breath and rose his gaze to his forefathers. "The blood price will be paid." 

Ravus took in the Scepter of the Pious, and Lunafreya the Trident of the Oracle. Ignis took in the Swords of the Wanderer, and the Blade of the Mystic. Gladio took in the Sword of the Tall, the Shield of the Just and the Mace of the Fierce - the only one of them Noct felt strong enough to take in three. His Prompto took in the Star of the Rogue, as well as the Bow of the Clever he'd already intercepted. As well as his already taken Sword of the Wise and Axe of the Conqueror, he took in the spirit of the Katana of the Warrior. 

Shakily, he slid his father's sword out of the notch in the ground and offered it to the ghostly form of his father, breathing hard. 

"Dad…" He murmured. "Trust in me." 

The sword _hurt_. The others had been draining, and painful, but nothing like the shaft of a real, physically present sword piercing through his chest. He choked in pain, slumping forward. 

The whole room seemed to white out, and when his eyes were clear again he stood in a void. Ardyn was across the way, and bowed mockingly to him. But when he raised his eyes, fury was built in his expression. 

He felt a hand slip into his, and somehow knew Prompto was beside him - and the others with them. Feeling bold, he lifted his hand to focus the magic of the ring towards the Accursed. 

Lunafreya darted forward, the movement delicate and almost pixie-like. She wrapped her hands around Ardyn's outstretched arm, surrounding him with light before she drifted back to Noct's side. 

Ardyn struggled against the light of their star, and Noct knew it was time. He channelled the power of the ring, felt the four royal arms plunging back out through his back. He could almost feel his friends' pain as the rest joined an arc behind them. He drew his arm back and thrust it forward, like signalling archers to fire. 

He could feel the power consuming his body, as the weapons disintgrated Ardyn into shards of crystal. He took a deep breath, and a second, then his body tilted backwards. He fell back into familiar arms, looking up to see Prompto holding him firmly. The blond smiled and pressed a phoenix down feather into his chest. 

Fire consumed Noct's body, and the void whited out in front of his eyes. 

***

Noct rubbed over his chest, against the ugly scar where his father's sword had hung from his chest. Familiar hands, now marked with freckles once again, reached around him and batted his hands away. 

Prompto's chin rested on his shoulder, appearing in the mirror beside him. "You're up early. Couldn't sleep?" His fingers reached down to start doing up the buttons Noct's fingers had abandoned. 

Noct yawned and rested his head against Prompto's. "Not after you wriggled out," he admitted. "Where'd you go?" He complained. 

"I have to fly to New Gralea today," the blond answered. "Aranea's been leaving all the tough stuff for me. I wanted to get my daily run in before you woke up." 

Noct stroked his hands over his husband's, feeling his knuckles and the play of muscles. "It's gonna be strange tomorrow. Going into Niflheim as a guest, rather than being smuggled in." He sighed as Prompto pulled his suit jacket over his shoulders and buttoned them closed too. "Can't I just go with you now?" He mumbled. "We haven't been apart since you brought me back to life." 

Prompto turned him around to kiss him softly. "No," he admitted, disappointed. "I've got laws to pass, including taking down the embargo and opening up the borders, finally. Then you can come join me." 

Noct nuzzled his cheek. "And we'll build our new kingdom together, from New Gralea." 

Prompto smiled. "Together," he murmured. "For always." 


End file.
